


To His Coy Mistress

by AdelenMontgomery



Series: If Only [5]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Child is Adorable, F/M, First Time, Kidnapping, Letters, Missing Persons, News Media, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue Missions, Sparring, retraumatization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10127438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelenMontgomery/pseuds/AdelenMontgomery
Summary: Steve got shot. Ben got kidnapped. Miranda is missing. Somehow, these events are connected. Right? Except there's no ransom demand, no gloating. Just silence. But theyhaveto be connected, right? Right?It doesn't help when matters of the heart get caught in this disaster either.





	1. Had We But World Enough, And Time

**Author's Note:**

> Tile of fic and chapters taken from "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell.

They hadn’t moved since she’d checked on them a few hours ago, and Nat could tell that they both were restless. Bucky was still sitting in the chair, staring at the lock screen on Andy’s phone. If Nat remembered correctly, it was a picture of  Ben proudly brandishing a toy shield in front of Steve, who held his own. The home screen was an adorable close-up of Ben grinning. She considered telling him the passcode. She’d at least have to bring a charger later.

Steve, on the other hand, was glaring a hole into the ceiling tile now instead of sleeping. He was probably contriving a way to get out of the hospital and go find the missing Douglases. Who was she kidding, of course, he was.

“You’d think the ceiling tiles had personally offended you,” she said, perching on the foot of the hospital bed. Steve shot her a look.

“Do you have an update?”

“We found Clint. He was in a dumpster a few streets north of the van.”

“And?”

“He’s downstairs. He hasn’t woken up yet, and until then, we don’t have much more than we had last night. But we’re working on it. You two aren’t the only ones worried about them,” Nat said, glancing at Bucky. He had turned the screen off. “Her passcode is 031015,” she said, getting up and leaving.

Bucky glanced down at the screen. He didn’t care about opening it, he was too busy thinking about what he’d missed. He could have come back with Andy when she offered. He  _ should _ have come back with her. None of this would have happened if he had.

But more than that, he’d missed out on Ben. He’d convinced her to keep him, she’d named him after him. And he hadn’t met the kid yet. (And now maybe he never will.) Ben seemed like a good kid. How could he be anything but with his family?

*****

They let Steve go two days later. Clint still hadn’t woken up. To stay close, almost everyone was staying at Andy’s house. Bucky was impressed — not because it was big (which it was) but because of how modest and homey it was compared to her neighbors.

The drive a long curve, gated by the road. Natasha had to lean out of the car to punch in the security code to let them in. The front lawn was well-kept and green, and there was a simple fountain in the circle inside the curve of the driveway.

The house itself was two stories with a grandiose front porch. A balcony on the second floor created the overhang, which was supported by smooth stone columns. Everything was a warm brown tone.

The inside was nice, too, though it probably would look nicer when several adults weren’t living in it. Vision and Tony were camped out at the dining room table, sifting through things on the internet. Looking for a  _ reason _ behind all this.

Wanda and Pietro were in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Bucky was surprised how big it was (he was pretty sure you could have fit his apartment in Romania in it). The granite countertops were hidden under prepared dishes and what the twins were working on. Wanda stopped as soon as she saw Steve, brushing off her hands on her apron before hugging him and leading him to another room to sit down.

Sam grabbed Steve’s bag from Bucky and disappeared around a corner, taking it upstairs to wherever Steve was going to be staying.

Bucky felt like he was in the way.

“Bucky,” Natasha said, “why don’t you help us look through these articles and news clips?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting down at the table. Something to do. He pulled up the first article.

*****

**An Afternoon With Lady Liberty**

By G. Harper

June 15, 2018

 

**A** mbassador Douglas is an interesting woman. Having entered the world stage anonymously at first as a companion to Loki, she has since captured attention on her own merit as an associate of the Avengers, long-term girlfriend of Captain Steve Rogers, ambassador for Polaris, and finally U.N. Ambassador and Presidential Cabinet Member. All by the young age of 24.

Now, at only 26, she once again is turning heads with her involvement in the Sokovia Accords, international legislation dealing with the rising numbers of enhanced, mutant, and Inhuman individuals. But people know hardly anything about her.

I set out to change that and arranged an interview with America’s “Lady Liberty.”

**A** s I pulled up to her house near the East River in New York, I noticed that Amb. Douglas is quite obviously not used to having a lavish lifestyle, as everything was very modest. While speaking with her over the course of the day, I learned that she is from a small town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, a far cry from New York.

She introduced herself as Miranda, saying “titles have their place, and that is not my house,” with a smile. I obliged.

Most of our interview was conducted on her terrace overlooking her backyard, much of which was a beautiful garden. The garden was no surprise since she spent so much time at the White House and Versailles, both of which have beautiful gardens.

We sipped on iced tea as we talked. I asked her how she felt about being in public eye.

“I don’t like it,” she admitted, “but as long as Ben is left alone, I don’t really mind. I knew I would be from the moment I went to the Palais Garnier. But it can get stressful.” I asked if she got to spend much time with Ben, her 4-year-old son.

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to,” she said. “But I know I’m helping to build a better world for him. Hopefully, it’s one that will accept him,” she said, referring to her son’s parentage as half-human and half-Asgardian.

 

**I** asked the ambassador what her biggest regret in life was. She laughed and said she’d have to think about that.

“There’s so many things I wish hadn’t happened, but I don’t know if I necessarily regret any of them.”

So I asked what she would call the most defining moment in her life.

“Oh, gee, I guess having to switch to my backup thesis in college.” I asked her to elaborate. “I majored in history, and my original idea for my senior thesis got shot down, so I had to switch to my second option. Luckily I got to do that one since I didn’t have a third!” I asked why she thought this was so defining.

“If I hadn’t switched, I wouldn’t have set up a study-abroad in Norway. I was waiting in JFK [International Airport] when Loki attacked New York. I ended up not leaving New York for about a year instead of a few hours.” I asked if she’d ever made it to Norway.

“No, not yet,” she laughed. “Hopefully someday I’ll finally get there.” I commented that it would make a great honeymoon getaway. She blushed and looked away.

“That would require a wedding first,” she said. “Which isn’t happening anytime soon. Steve’s old-fashioned, and I know he won’t ask for a while yet.”

But it is something you see in the future?

“Someday, maybe. Part of me certainly hopes so,” she said with a small smile.

I asked her what she thought of the “Lady Liberty” title.

“At first I thought it was kind of ridiculous, but it’s grown on me I think. I just hope I live up to it.”

 

**M** iranda Douglas has spent the last four years of her life in the public eye, something she still isn’t used to. That has, to some extent, worked in her favor as she remained humble and grounded despite everything that has happened to her.

“I was told that my twenties would be spent figuring out who am I as a person, but I didn’t expect it to go anything like this. I expected to be scrounging together enough money for rent each month, but here I am,” she said, gesturing to her house. “Sometimes I can’t believe any of it is real.”

Amb. Douglas also struggles to grasp her importance on the global scale — she understands her political importance, but her social importance eludes her.

“I’m surprised every time someone comes up to me and asks for an autograph or a photo and tells me their story because of my work with Polaris. I never expect it. And then people call me ‘Lady Liberty’ like I’m a superhero.”

I told her that people do think of her as a hero. There’s even art online. She smiled and admitted that she has seen some of it. Her favorite is a parody poster of Rosie the Riveter.

 

**H** istory, she said, was her first love. Her uncle was a historian, and she looked up to him and followed in his footsteps as a Captain America aficionado.

“My best friend and I always worked things back around to the Howlies. I think our teachers got tired of it or at least warned the next teacher because eventually we were told to not do reports on them anymore. But we did anyway.”

She said that her favorite Howling Commando was Sgt. James Barnes, now more commonly known as the Winter Soldier. She spoke very fondly of Sgt. Barnes, as she met him while he was assigned to be her personal protection for most of 2013.

“I always admired him for being at Steve’s side through everything. I felt the same way about my best friend. Loyal till the last, even after everything he’s been through.”

I asked what her boyfriend thought of her admiration for both Sgt. Barnes and himself.

“I thought it was more awkward than Steve did. I still do. I mean, I used to have posters of them tacked up in my bedroom. It’s very strange to go from that to actually knowing them, let alone dating.” She added that she never thought she would become a part of history.

“I always thought that I would study it, but now it’s up close and I’m shaping it. It’s a scary thought sometimes — it’s a huge responsibility.”

That it is, but as we all have seen Amb. Douglas is prepared and capable of fulfilling that responsibility.

 

**M** any readers want to know more about Amb. Douglas’ personal life, but she requested that her personal life stays private.

“But if people want to know my favorite color, it’s purple,” she joked.

While I didn’t get all the answers that people are dying to hear, or get to ask all the questions that are buzzing around my brain, I consider that summer afternoon last week to have been very productive. The globe got a glimpse into the life and mind of one of the most powerful people in the world.

*****

That wasn’t so bad. So of course the comments sections was going to be hell to go through. And they were in reverse chronological order, with the most recent ones at the top. Bucky to the tenth death threat before he stopped.

“There’s got to be an easier way than going through these manually.”

“Once Friday reboots, there will be,” Tony said. “But whoever is behind this, they wanted to make sure that we couldn’t find them quickly.” He scowled, turning back to his own screen. Bucky continued going through comments.

*****

Later that night, after scrolling through half a dozen articles and a handful of news clips and the thousands of comments on each, Bucky excused himself to get some rest. His eyes were burning, and the list of internet douchebags (Natasha said they’re called “trolls”) that he wanted to punch was getting obscenely long. Bucky understood why they weren’t letting Steve help.

“Barnes,” Natasha said, catching him before he could head upstairs. She waved over her shoulder and walked down the hall, clearly wanting him to follow.

She opened one of the doors, revealing Miranda’s office. The computer’s fans hummed. The polished cherry desk was covered in papers and folders. A small dish had several thumb drives resting on it. Next to the monitor was a picture of Ben, and next to that a framed doodle of a family (if Bucky had to guess).

Natasha pulled out a box from the bottom of the bookshelf and put it on the desk, the label facing him. In a clean, looping hand was his name.

“Whenever she found something she wanted to show you, she put it in here,” Natasha said. “Have fun.” With that, she left.

Bucky slowly lifted the lid. There was an unorganized pile of papers and photographs. There was a thumb drive as well. He decided to start there.

The first thing that came up was a file labeled “Open Me.” He clicked on it. There was another file in that one, but there was also a video. He clicked on it and Miranda’s face took up the screen.

She smiled softly, tucking hair behind her ear. She was in a T-shirt cardigan and jeans. The background was unfamiliar.

“ _ James, if you’re watching this, that means you came home. I don’t know how far in the future that is, but I’m glad you did regardless. And even if you never do, Dr.Arzt said that this would be good for me. _ ” She wrinkled her nose. “ _ Have fun going through the Rabbit Hole, I guess. _ ” The video ended there.

He clicked on the file. It was called “Open Me Too.” The video had been “Watch Me.” The file was a few pictures of Miranda and Ben. He couldn’t have been more than a few months old. Miranda was sickly pale, but she looked happy. There was a document, “Read Me.”

 

> _ Dear James, _
> 
> _ I miss you. I wish you were here to meet Ben. I think you’d love him. He’s a troublemaker, like me. If I’m not paying attention, he crawls off to who knows where. I have to barricade him in the living room. It’s like Les Mis, it’s ridiculous. _
> 
> _ It’s hard to put things into words. I want to tell you what life is like, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make it sound interesting. _
> 
> _ I’m cooking a lot. Helps me calm down. Do you remember all those times I talked about cooking? God, I missed it so much. But now my freezer’s full. Oops. _
> 
> _ I feel silly, writing to you and not even knowing if you’ll ever see it. _
> 
> _ I wish I knew where you were. _
> 
> _ I wish you’d come home. _
> 
> _ XO — Andy _

 

He opened the next file. More pictures. Ben was growing quickly this way. Miranda looked healthier. Her hair was growing back. A few of the pictures featured other Avengers. There was another video.

“ _ It’s weird, doing it like this, _ ” she said, half-spinning side to side in a chair. The background was the same as the first video. “ _ Things are kinda jumbled up. The pictures are older, from before this project. If you wanted to know. _ ” She picked at the hem of her sweater.  _ “I feel like an idiot _ ,” she said abruptly. “ _ Steve and I — we’ve been fake-dating for like three months now. And I can’t wrap my head around what Nat’s got up her sleeve. But I know I’m still hung up on you. Oh, god, I hope you never see this. I’d be so embarrassed.” _

Bucky blinked a few times, staring at the last frame of the video. Fake-dating? Hung up on him? What?

Bucky dug deeper. More pictures, videos, letters. A few scans of Ben’s “art” accompanied by notes about how he was trying to copy Steve. The background changed to a different office. Miranda looked different in those, like she was slightly paranoid. But it was only for one video. The rest were the office Bucky was in now.

“ _ I’m so angry at you, _ ” started the last video. “ _ I’m so angry, Bucky, and I don’t — I just — argh! Why couldn’t you come home, Bucky? Why didn’t you come with me? Steve and I weren’t really dating, if that’s what it was. It was fake. But now it’s not because I’m a dumbass who decided that if you weren’t gonna take your chance with Steve then I might as well and now I’m kicking myself because I can’t lose either of you. I can’t. And the Accords… God dammit, Bucky, I need you here. You always knew what to say. I miss you. _ ”

He paused the video. The date stamp was from September 29. He hit play.

“ _ I miss you so much. If you woulda just come home with me — forget it. I played my cards in Bucharest, right? I didn’t have anything else. Now I just gotta keep your ass out of prison.”  _ She smirked half-heartedly before the video cut out.

She’d forgotten one card in Bucharest. Neither of them were even aware it was on the table.

Her.

******

In the morning, everyone crowded in the living room. They had no theories, no solid evidence of any kind, no leads. Nothing. There was no ransom demand, no hint that they were even alive. It was radio silence outside the media, which was freaking out. Some far-right sources were claiming that their kidnappings and Steve getting shot were all ploys to distract from the Accords and Miranda coming out as a mutant.

They had nothing. It was a waiting game now until Clint woke up.

But they didn’t know how long the Douglases had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any theories as to who took the Douglases?


	2. This Coyness, Lady, Were No Crime

Whoever was behind this, they weren’t being funny, Miranda thought. The decor was simple, but clearly Viking. The dark wood furniture had Viking-esque carvings on them. There was a beautiful scene on the headboard of the bed, but Miranda couldn’t place what legend it was from.

She had a headache, but the soft light from the fireplace didn’t bother her. A few patches of sunlight made squares on the stone floor, the last few rays of the day coming in from the skylights.There was a tray of food on a table held up by dragons, and a jug of water. Miranda filled a horn with water and downed it. Sipping on a second, she looked around the room more.

It was cozy, to be sure. The Viking influence was clearly an attempt to appeal to her. Good god, she hoped she hadn’t been kidnapped by some neo-Nordic cult.

She nibbled on a roll as she wandered about the room, which was a comfortable size. She studied the tapestry — it had to be a few centuries old. She had to appreciate the attention to detail there. The bookshelf was full of leatherbound copies of books; some were in English, others Norse.

There were no doors. No windows either, just the four skylights. She checked for trap doors or secret doors or  _ some _ kind of entrance and found nothing. Lounging on the couch and munching on a golden apple, she wondered if she could climb out of the skylights by jumping off the bookshelf after moving it closer.

She wanted out because she didn’t want to be here — wherever here was. But more than that, it was silent. There was nothing but the crackle of the fire and her own steady breathing. No buzz of thoughts, nothing. She was alone. She hated it.

*****

No one came to visit. The food replaced itself while Miranda slept. (Or so it seemed, anyway. Food doesn’t just magically replace itself.) Miranda was sure by now, after two days, that she wasn’t hallucinating anything here. She’d considered it at first when she woke up. It had been a long while, but it seemed like a logical option. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

*****

Miranda tried to remember what had happened before she woke up in this underground room, but it was a blur. Up, breakfast, courthouse, signing, interviews, — “Your honor, how long have you been telepathic?” “Did the President know?” — and then finally, finally leaving the courthouse, and then —

Miranda swallowed. There was more, after that. She didn’t want to think about it. Think about the scrape of the stone steps on her knees, the texture of his suit jacket as she moved it out of the way, the bright flashes of cameras, the absence of sound and its deafening presence. It was all so vivid.

Focus. What happened next?

Hospital, waiting, Bucky, waiting, waiting, waiting, Nat called, then an FBI agent wanted to ask her some questions, and as soon as they were alone there was a flash of light. It was green?

Miranda shook her head. It was too confusing. She stopped trying to remember. It would come to her in its own time.

*****

She sang to herself. She ran through every song she knew by heart, then songs she only half-knew. Anything to fill the silence. She read books aloud.

She drew lines on the floor to keep time by the sunlight. She kept tallies of the days.

*****

The bookshelf was  _ a lot _ heavier than she had expected. It took the better part of the day to move it close enough to the nearest skylight for her to attempt to escape. The Avengers were taking too long and whoever had taken her had yet to stop by for a chat. Really, it was inconsiderate of them to have not stopped by.

“Self-rescuing princess,” she huffed, tugging on the bookshelf, “that’s me.”

She slept deeply that night, exhausted from the effort it took to move the bookshelf. Her last conscious thought was a prayer that it wouldn’t reset in the night.

*****

It didn’t and Miranda squealed with joy. She changed into the pants and tunic that she’d found. She made a makeshift bag out of a dress, ripping and stitching as needed. She filled it with food. She searched the room for something to put water in but came up empty handed.

“Here’s hoping there’s water nearby,” she said, looking up at the skylight. She braided her hair back and grabbed the heaviest object she could carry.

She put that on top of the bookshelf first. Some little statue carving. Hopefully it was heavy enough to break the glass.

She put her bag up next, then wrapped her hands and climbed up herself. The heavy bookshelf had been a pain to move, but it was sturdy. It hardly moved as she climbed up its shelves.

“I really hope this works,” she said, weighing the statue in her hand. The marks on the floor told her it was early evening. There were eight tallies next to those marks.

At an angle, she threw it as hard as she could against the glass.

*************************************************************************************************************

Steve was moping. He’d say he wasn’t, but that was the only word for it.

“Just let me help,” he said. Nat gave Bucky a look. He sighed and got up from the table.

“Come on, Steve, you need to rest,” he said, gently tugging Steve back to the living room. He was still recovering, and that meant he needed rest. Getting worked up over trolls on the internet was the opposite of resting. Bucky had almost broken the laptop several times, the key term there being  _ almost _ . Steve was a lot closer to this than anyone else.

“I want to help,” Steve pouted, plopping back down onto the couch.

“I know,” Bucky said. “I get it.” He remembered the last conversation they’d had before he shipped out. “And here I was hoping she took all the stupid with her.”

“I feel useless, Buck.”

“I know.”

“I need to do something.”

“I know.”

“Someone shot me and then took her and Ben, Bucky. This is connected somehow, I know it.”

“That’s the theory.”

“She killed Pierce,” Steve said after a moment’s silence. “I don’t know how, but she did.”

“What?” Bucky said. Maybe this was the connection they were missing. But also a tiny part of him was secretly proud of her. Another part felt guilty for that. He  _ had  _ trained her after all. But in the summer sun, none it had seemed to have any weight. It had been a way to pass the time more than anything else.

“All I know is she did. She was sure it couldn’t be traced back to her, but, Buck, what if that’s it? The connection?”

“It might be,” Bucky said, getting up. He ran to the dining room — HQ at this point, really, even though Tony had to leave to continue working — and told everyone what Steve had said. It narrowed their search down significantly.

Bucky went back to the living room to keep Steve entertained. Or distracted, depending on how you look at it. No, it was 100% a distraction. For both of them.

“You know, we haven’t had a real conversation since before I shipped out,” Bucky said.

“That can’t be right, we talked —”

“No, see, all we talked about during the war was what we were doing. I was trying not to rip you stupid head off for signin’ up to be a lab rat.”

“Okay, I concede.”

“Steve Rogers, backin’ down from a fight? What has the world come to?”

“I’ve had to… change.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. But it sounds like we have a lot to catch up on,” Bucky said. Steve half-smiled, chuckling. Bucky’s heart clenched. Andy was a lucky girl.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“We’ve got time.” And for once, they really did.

******

The Avengers gathered in the living room to discuss their next move.

“There’s no chatter about any of this. Even in channels that Hydra has been known to use,” Natasha said. She was standing in front of the television with her arms crossed. Even she was starting to get frazzled. It had been a week and a half and they had nothing to show for it.

“Perhaps we should inform the appropriate authorities of Miss Douglas’ involvement with Pierce’s death,” Vision said.

“And have her branded a criminal? No,” Pietro said. Wanda nodded in agreement.

“She caused a stroke with her mind, do you really think they’ll believe that?” Sam said. “And besides, how could Hydra even know she did?”

“She didn’t even give me a straight answer if she did or not,” Steve added. “I find it hard to believe Hydra would know definitively.”

“I taught her to cover her tracks,” Natasha said. “There’s no way they do.”

“Except they might,” Bucky said, his brow furrowing. Everyone looked to him and he took a deep breath. “She, uh, had kinda done it before. The whole ‘killing-with-her-mind’ thing.”

“Go on,” Natasha said. Bucky shifted, chewing his lip.

“It was in Belgium. She woke up a few times. The first time was nothing, they just upped the dosage of the drug cocktail. The second time… the second time was bad.” He leaned forward, rubbing his thumb. “I’m not even sure she was fully awake. I was up in the observation deck, watching them work in the lab. I think Pierce was testing if I remembered her. I didn’t — not then, anyway. She was lying there still one moment, and the next she had one wrist free and stabbed an assistant in the neck with a scalpel.”

“She was completely strapped down when I found her,” Steve said.

“This is why,” Bucky said. “The two security in the room drew their weapons and pointed them at her, but then they pointed at each other and fired. At the same time, she stabbed another assistant and glared at the other. He started bleeding from his ears, eyes, nose… the doctor was able to inject a sedative while she was distracted. When they got her back on the table, they added more straps.”

“Jesus,” Sam swore.

“It took less than maybe thirty seconds,” Bucky said. “They wiped it from the tapes.” He glanced at Steve, who looked uncharacteristically pale. “I don’t think she remembers it, though. But I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“So Hydra knows she can kill people with her mind. That means that they could have suspected her involvement in Pierce’s death,” Natasha said.

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

“We keep —” Natasha started before cutting herself off and pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“What is it?” Wanda asked. Everyone waited with bated breath.

“Clint just woke up,” Natasha said, already heading out of the room.

*************************************************************************************************************

The glass shattered and fell. Miranda turned, covering her eyes with her arm. After a moment, she stood back up, taking in the destruction at her feet. A tiny blossom of hope grew in her chest.

She tossed her bag of food out before she jumped. She struggled, slowly inching her way up to the surface before propelling herself up and praying she didn’t fall straight down.

She rolled once, twice, three times before stopping at the bottom of a small bulge. Lying on her back with her eyes closed, she laughed.

“It worked, it really worked,” she said, throwing her arms out spread-eagle. She rolled over and looked around for her bag.

The last few rays of sunlight were sinking low as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She looked to the sky, hoping to see the first few stars emerging so that she could navigate by them.

Her legs gave out under the crushing revelation that followed.


	3. We would sit down, and think which way/ To walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp I haven't updated in forever. Oops. In my defense, I had projects and essays and finals to do so...

Natasha’s boots were muffled by the carpeting in the hospital hallway. The nurse at the desk directed her down the hallway and around the corner to where they had moved Clint now that he was awake. She wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.

The young woman tapped the man in the suit’s arm, gesturing towards Natasha as she approached.

“I didn’t expect to run into you,” Natasha said. “Last I heard, you were busy being dead, Phil.”

“I got better,” Phil said. “Romanov, this is Agent Daisy Johnson.”

“I believe the news calls you Quake, don’t they?” Natasha said, shaking Daisy’s hand.

“They do.”

“I knew SHIELD was involved, but you sure got here fast,” Natasha said, mostly talking to Phil. She didn’t know much about Agent Johnson, but if Phil trusted her, she was a good agent — and more than that, a good person.

“I’m breaking protocol a little with this. Happens when family is involved.”

“Family?” Natasha said, raising an eyebrow.

“I take it Andy never mentioned she’s my niece.”

“No, she didn’t,” Natasha said. She didn’t like not knowing things — especially important things, and she didn’t know two very important things until just now.

“We can talk about that later. Shall we?” Phil said, gesturing to let Natasha lead the way into Clint’s room. She gave a sharp nod and strode in ahead of the two SHIELD agents. Hopefully, they would get some answers.

*****

After Clint wrapped his head around Coulson still being alive (and subsequently Nat  _ not _ knowing and Miranda knowing), he told them what he remembered. He’d picked up Ben, driven off, and he’d gotten out of Manhattan but wasn’t sure how much farther he got. He knew he hadn’t gotten out of the city though.

“I know it’s going to sound crazy, but the doc said I didn’t have a concussion,” Clint said. “But I think that Loki took Ben. Andy’s gonna kill me, I know, but I think it was him.”

“What makes you say that?” Nat asked, tabling the news of Miranda’s disappearance for the time being.

“Cause he’s the last thing I remember seeing before waking up here,” Clint said. Nat nodded. “Andy’s gonna murder me.”

“She won’t, Clint. She probably already knows.”

“Shit. He — no!”

“Andy and Ben both went missing on the same day. If Loki came for Ben —”

“Then he came for her, too,” Phil finished.

*****

Miranda stared at the sky — the  _ Asgardian _ sky — as the late afternoon turned to dusk and willed herself not to cry. Everything was going wrong. She could handle being kidnapped, she could handle not quite knowing where she was. But now she knew where she was and knew that there was no easy way home, no easy way to find Ben, no easy way to explain how she got to where she was.

So she sat in the grass, letting the dew soak her pants and stared up at the sky wishing that the stars would take familiar shapes and constellations.

“It’s going to get cold, dear,” someone said. Miranda looked around and spotted an old woman near the tree line of the small clearing. “You should head home before the sun is completely gone.”

“My home is too far away for that,” Miranda said, wiping her eyes.

“Then come with me, dear, I won’t let you stay out here all night if I can help it,” the woman said. “Come along,” she continued, waving her hand over her shoulder and tottering off into the trees. Miranda jumped to her feet and quickly followed.

The old woman lead Miranda to a small hovel and lifted up the flap to usher her inside. Miranda sat on the pile of furs she pointed to. The woman set down her basket of herbs and things she had collected in the forest.

“Are you hungry?” the woman asked. Miranda was tempted to say no to be polite, but her stomach growled loudly. The woman laughed. “That is a yes!” Miranda sat quietly, looking around as the woman poured two bowls of stew.

The hovel was round and felt larger inside than it had looked from the outside. Most of the light came from the glowing coals in the fire in the middle, over which hung a pot to cook in. Herbs and bones hung from the roof, alongside other dried goods.

“Thank you,” Miranda said, taking the wooden bowl with two hands. The woman slowly sat down near her on another pile of furs.

“What is a pretty young woman like you doing out in the middle of nowhere?” the woman asked once she sat down.

“That’s something I’d like to know myself, actually.”

“You’re not traveling to find yourself, are you?”

“Oh, no, no, ma’am.”

“Good,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “Are you one of those hopeful Valkyries?”

“What makes you say that?” Miranda said, putting the stew down for a moment.

“You have that air about you. You knew Frigga,” the woman said, patting Miranda’s knee. “I can tell. She left a mark on everyone she met.”

Miranda swallowed thickly, her hand going to cover the spot where she had been branded so many years ago, the spot that was oh-so-close to finally healing over.

“Not a physical mark, dear,” the woman said. She ate her stew like nothing was out of the ordinary. Miranda wasn’t sure how to feel about this woman, but she seemed safe enough. But she couldn’t get a good read on her either. “But I know about that one, too.”

Miranda rubbed the back of her neck. Her fingers stopped, and she frowned, feeling around the edges of a small chip at the base of her skull.

“What did you find, dear?” the woman asked, setting her bowl down and shuffling over. Miranda turned, moving her hair out of the way. “Tsk, trickery,” she said. Miranda felt a tug and a sharp pain, but then everything was normal. Miranda could sense everything about the old woman like she could with anyone else. It was overwhelming after being alone for so long.

“Thank you,” Miranda said as the woman dropped the chip into her palm.

“Take deep breaths, dear, you’ll need a moment to process as that thing’s effects wear off,” the woman said, sneering at the chip that wasn’t much bigger than a fingernail. Miranda wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before.

She put it in her pocket for safekeeping.

“Now eat up, dear,” the woman said. They ate in silence, and after, Miranda insisted on helping the woman clean up.

Once everything was put away, the woman gathered up her basket and a spool of twine and set about tying the herbs into bundles.

“Tie them to the rafters, would you?” she said. Miranda took the bundle and balanced on a stool. She felt the old woman watching her every move. Was it because she thought she was a candidate to be a Valkyrie? Or was it something else?

“What do you use the herbs for?” Miranda asked. The coals popped and sizzled as water dripped from the drying pot.

“All sorts of things,” the woman said, handing her another bundle. “Are you a mother?”

“Pardon?” Miranda said, catching her balance before she fell off the stool. “I have the air about me, don’t I?”

“You are a quick learner.”

“I’ve been told,” Miranda said. “My son is four.” The old woman hummed.

_ “Your eldest shall clash fire and ice, an act of will, his own device.” _

“What?”

“Tie these up too, dear,” the woman said, handing Miranda three more bundles. Miranda frowned, but she took them and tied them to the rafters. Once they were all tied up and hanging to dry, the old woman made them tea. Miranda kept mulling over the woman’s words.

They were a prophecy, and that was never good news.

*****

The next day, Miranda helped the old woman with whatever she asked. She cut firewood, gathered kindling and herbs, tied more herbs to the rafters. Miranda wondered if the roof would collapse from the weight of everything hanging on it when the snow came.

The woman insisted she spend another night with her. Miranda obliged, not knowing where else to go. After dinner, the woman asked her about her life back home.

“I have a big family,” she said, smiling. She wanted to get back to them — they must be worried. Of course they’re worried, why downplay it? It’s been, what, three weeks? They must be losing their minds.

“Do you have someone waiting for you?” the woman asked. Miranda stared at her hands. She wasn’t sure she did anymore. She and Steve… they’d never actually said it but they were taking a break, weren’t they? And that’s if he’s even still alive…

“No.”

“Mhm. Perhaps soon then,” the woman said. “ _ Your second child shall be born of three, from marriage bed of one fair, one dark, and thee. _ ”

Like the night before, the woman didn’t seem to be aware of what she was saying. Miranda didn’t know what to make of any of this, but she had a feeling that these things came in threes.

And the next night proved her suspicions. She insisted that she must leave in the morning and get back to Asgard, to the citadel. The woman told her which way to go, and put together a bundle for her to take in the morning at first light. As she handed the bundle to Miranda, she said:

“ _ And you, dear lady, to your heart be true, for weirds of worlds rest on you. _ ”

Miranda simply thanked her for the bundle.

In the morning, Miranda left early. The dew still clung to the grass and what leaves were still on trees, to spiderwebs and what tools the old woman had outside her hut. Before she left, Miranda asked a question that had been buzzing inside her since she met the old woman.

“What’s your name?”

“I believe on Midgard I am called Skuld,” she said. Miranda nodded. Everything about her made sense now.

“It’s been an honor,” Miranda said. The goddess of the future nodded, wishing her a safe journey. Miranda glanced back over her shoulder a few times until the trees blocked her view of the hut and she’d somehow put the future behind her.

Then she kept walking, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and nothing else. If she thought about anything else, she'd never get anywhere, she'd just curl up and cry. So she just kept putting one foot in front of the other heading towards what she hoped was help.


	4. And Pass Our Love's Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between updates but I've been working on my Stucky Big Bang fic. I'm really excited about the bang but unfortunately, that means my other works have to take a bit of a back seat.

Miranda plodded down the worn and grooved dirt road, exhausted but not daring to stop so early in the afternoon. She glanced over her shoulder and moved into the cool grass along the side when she heard what sounded like horses approaching.

A few men on horseback rode past her, followed by a wagon with four passengers: two women not much older than Miranda, and two boys who couldn’t have been older than two. The blonde woman called out for them to stop. Once everyone was at rest, she climbed off the wagon, walking a few feet back along the road towards Miranda.

“I do not mean to be intrusive, but where are you headed?” she asked.

“Towards the main city of Asgard,” Miranda said. She hoped her accent was convincing — she hadn’t practiced an Asgardian accent in years. But it seemed to hold up enough for the woman.

“On foot?” she said, surprised. “It will take you a long while to reach the citadel. Come, I will take you to my hearth, as my guest. My husband often travels to the citadel. He is there now, but he is due home tomorrow. Perhaps he can take you with him on his next journey,” the woman offered, gently trying to guide Miranda towards the wagon.

“I thank you for your kind offer, but I cannot intrude.”

“You are not intruding. If I cannot convince you to stay, will you at least let me offer you a ride on my wagon? Rest your feet awhile.”

Miranda looked at the wagon. It would be very nice to get off her feet for a few miles. One of the boys stared at her, blue eyes sparkling. He reminded her so much of Ben.

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Miranda said. The woman smiled, and the pair climbed onto the wagon.

“My name is Sigyn,” the woman said. “And these are my sons, Nari and Vali.”

“I am Logetha,” Miranda said. She was definitely only riding with them for a short ways. She hoped that Sigyn’s husband was away like she had told her.

*****

Bucky gave up on sleep around two in the morning. He quietly left his guest room with the intention of wandering the little garden Andy had in her backyard, but when he passed by the kid’s room, he noticed the door was ajar. He peeked in.

Steve sat at the end of the bed holding a photo frame in his lap, a music box softly plucking away where it sat on the floor next to him. Bucky opened the door a little farther and Steve looked up. Bucky knew that look. That was the Steve-Rogers-Doesn’t-Cry look.

Bucky slipped into the room, carefully sitting down on the floor next to Steve, his right leg pressed up against Steve’s left. He stared at their bare feet for a moment before looking at the photo. It was of Andy and Ben playing in the sand on the water’s edge of some beach, both of them sporting wide-brimmed hats to block the sun. Neither of them were looking at the camera, too focused on building the sandcastle in front of them.

Neither of them spoke until well after the music box had stopped playing and the last note had faded from the air.

“You’d love Ben,” Steve said. “He reminds me of your sister Becca sometimes.”

“Then Andy’s got her hands full between the two of you.” Silence.

“I feel useless, Buck. I can’t go find them, I can’t bring them home. What good is it being Captain fucking America if I can’t protect the people I care about?” Steve stared at him, begging for advice. Bucky could only remember seeing that look on Steve’s face once before, but he couldn’t remember when. But he didn’t like seeing Steve so hopeless and heartbroken. It was almost like Andy had died in front of him — oh. That’s how he knew that look.

“Then don’t be Captain America, be Steve Rogers. I always liked him better anyway,” Bucky said, halfheartedly trying to lighten the conversation.

“I should’ve been there,” Steve said under his breath, looking at the picture again.

“You got shot, Steve, there’s nothing you could’ve done.”  _ I, on the other hand, let her walk away with Loki just because I thought he was FBI. _

“That doesn’t make me any less guilty,” Steve said. Bucky’s eyes darted all over his face.

“What happened that’s got you so angry tonight? We’re all pissed that Loki has them, but I know you, and that ain’t it.”

“I finally got to see the news,” Steve said, pulling out his phone and playing a news clip — a live version of the shooting.

They walked down the steps hand in hand, smiling tightly and waving politely at the reporters but not making any comments. Andy stopped, rubbing her forehead and pinching her eyes shut like she had a headache. Steve turned back to see what was wrong. The audio didn’t pick up their exchange over the reporters’ questions, but it didn’t matter since the next moment there was a gunshot and Steve was sprawled out on the steps.

Andy dropped to her knees, sliding down the few steps that separated them as she went, pressing her hands to Steve’s chest as soon as she got to his side. She was screaming for an ambulance, then:

“ _ Don’t you dare die on me. Please, Steve, please, you can’t die, I need you, I love you, you can’t die, you can’t — _ ”

Someone helped Andy stand up and move out of the EMT’s way.

Steve stopped the video and tucked his phone back in his pocket.

“First time she ever said that to me and I didn’t even get to hear it right from her,” Steve said, clenching his jaw. “And since she was panicking I don’t even know if she meant it. Can’t ask her since she’s on fucking Asgard.” He shook his head. “‘S all a bunch a fuckin’ bullshit.”

“We’ll get her back,” Bucky said after a moment’s silence. “And for what it’s worth, I think she meant it.” Bucky swallowed, pushing back the memories of wives, husbands, partners, fiancees screaming the same thing because of his handiwork. They had all meant it.

Steve huffed. “That just makes it worse.”

*****

With a storm brewing on the horizon, Miranda couldn’t easily refuse Sigyn’s hospitality. It would be foolish to willingly expose herself to the elements like that, and it would only make her look more suspicious than she probably already did. It’s not like she was in traveling clothes and her bag was a repurposed dress.

So Miranda agreed to stay until the storm blew over. Sigyn’s home was beautiful and well-kept with shining wood and stone in the walls and floors. The main doors had carvings of Jorgmund, the world snake on them. She wondered if she was perpetually trapped in an endless circle of events, too.

Miranda did her best to stay calm during supper — she’d been in far more dangerous situations, after all. But Sigyn had questions that Miranda didn’t quite have answers for. Well, answers that wouldn’t give her away. What if Sigyn already knew she was lying and was just testing her? Stalling for her husband’s return?

“Why are you headed towards the citadel?” Sigyn asked.

“To visit some friends. I have not seen them in a long time,” she replied. She wondered if Sif and the others would even recognize her.

“It is always good to see friends. Do you have family there as well?”

“Some. Or at least, I did. I have not heard from them for quite some time. Anything could have happened.”  _ Like Loki being alive and well, apparently. And married with two sons. _

“I hope that they are well.”

“As do I.” Miranda paused, fiddling with her cup of wine. “How far is the citadel from here? It can’t be far if your husband travels back and forth often.”  _ And why is he traveling back and forth? _

“Oh, most of a day’s ride by horseback,” Sigyn said. “That is what I remember. It has been years since I have visited.”

“I have not been in four years if my memory serves. I wonder how much it has changed.”

“Oh, not much in so little time, I imagine.”

Miranda nodded, kicking herself for forgetting that Asgardians live such long lives — four years was nothing.

“Do you have children of your own?” Sigyn asked when Miranda instinctively reached to help Vali before he poked his eye out trying to wipe something off his face.

“A son. He’ll be five in the spring,” she said, pulling back from Vali.

“I can understand why you chose not to travel with him,” Sigyn joked. Miranda smiled.

“He is mischievous,” Miranda said. “He’s with his father while I’m traveling,” she added, supposing that it was the truth. Hell, as far as she knew, it was.

After supper, Sigyn showed her to one of the guest rooms. Miranda thanked her as she left and slumped into one of the chairs once the door closed. Her mind was whirling. There were so many pieces to the puzzle, and only some of them fit together.

Loki was alive. He was married to Sigyn — she seemed happy. Miranda couldn’t remember any legends that said anything negative about their relationship beyond the initial trickery and the end.

She wondered how soon the end was coming. How far away was Ragnarok? How much time was there left? Miranda felt as though she was wasting time sitting here and just thinking, going over the facts that she had of her capture and escape, her hypotheses of where Ben was and why they are on Asgard, why she and Ben had been separated, if Steve was even still fucking alive —

She took a deep breath. She needed to stay calm, to focus. Get Ben, get home, then worry about Steve. And Bucky. And everyone else. Ah, fuck, there was gonna be so much PR for her to deal with, the media was probably having a field day — focus.

She moved to the window, overlooking the small courtyard and counted seconds between the flashes of lightning, watching the trees sway in the strong gales, and wondering where the thunder was. She didn’t want to think about what its absence meant. But she had a bad feeling about it.

Self-rescuing princess. And look where that got her. Maybe the princesses who stayed trapped had the right idea. The frying pan was better than the fire.


	5. My vegatable love would grow/ Vast as empires and more slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been almost two months since I updated... Protip kids: don't work two jobs and sign up for the Stucky Big Bang while you have a WIP. Though, *fingers crossed* with school starting back up soon and the Bang coming to a close, I should have more time to focus on this.  
> Special thanks to LucifersAlleyCat for commenting and reminding me to work on this chapter.

It took the better part of a week, but Volstagg was the one who first pointed out how the little boy looked like he could be Lady Miranda’s son. The four of them had been wondering who the boy was since Odin showed up one day with the boy in tow, but as soon as Volstagg said it, it was all they could see.

His auburn hair curled softly like his mother’s, and his eyes were almost the exact same shade of blue. His jaw and nose were like Loki’s.

The boy had to be.

“But then why is he on Asgard, if he is?” Fandral said. “Miranda did not seem very keen on letting him return — especially not without her.”

“That is a good question indeed,” Sif said.

So they paid closer attention to the boy and to Odin. A few days later, Sif came across the boy hiding in one of the gardens. He was curled up into a tight ball underneath one of the bushes in a way that you would only see him if you knew to look there. Sif had hidden there enough as a child to know to look.

She approached slowly, kneeling next to the bush and pulling one of the branches aside so he could see her face better. Startled, he leaned back and stared at her with red-rimmed eyes.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi,” he said, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“My name is Sif. What is yours?”

“You’re Lady Sif?” the boy asked, awe chasing away his tears.

“Aye.”

“My mom told me stories about you.”

“Did she?”

The boy nodded, leaning closer to Sif. “She said you’re a better warrior than Thor. And that you’re a good teacher.”

“I would not go so far as to say I could best Thor,” Sif said, but she was honored all the same. She was almost certain the boy was Miranda’s now, and his next question confirmed her suspicions.

“Why do you talk funny?” he asked, frowning.

“Allspeak is a more formal language than Midgardian languages,” she said. “If you come out of the bush, I can teach you a few words.”

“You can?” He started to crawl out of the bush but stopped. He looked Sif in the eye, suddenly very scared. “You’re not going to take me to him, are you?”

“This is no trick, child. I mean you no harm.”

He stared at her for a moment, not quite believing her. “Prove it,” he challenged, jutting out his chin and looking ready for a fight.

“If you wish to stay hidden, I shall leave you here.”

“Okay,” he said, sitting back down under the bush. But he was no longer curled up. He crossed his legs and started poking at leaves with his fingers. “I want my mom.” Sif noticed he was starting to cry again.

She didn’t know what to say, but she sat by the bush for almost an hour. By the end of it, she had polished her sword and the boy had crawled out of the bush to watch her do so with rapt attention.

“My aunt cleans her guns like you clean your sword,” he said. “She says they’re special.”

“Every warrior must treat their weapon with respect if they want it to serve them well in battle,” Sif said. He nodded.

“She can take it apart and put it back together in 24.32 seconds,” he said. Sif supposed that was supposed to be impressive. “She had me time her. But Momma doesn’t know that. Aunt Nat said Momma wouldn’t let her watch me again if she knew.”

“Then it is best that she does not know,” Sif said, smiling.

 

Later when Sif met with the Warriors Three, she told them the boy was indeed Benjamin.

“And his mother is not here,” she said. “He does not know where she is.”

“Perhaps Heimdall knows where she is. Someone could take the boy to her,” Hogun suggested.

“Aye, but Odin keeps a close eye on him,” Sif said. “It was only luck that he managed to sneak away today.”

“Then we bring her here!” Fandral said. “I miss her wit.”

“I think you mean you miss flirting with her,” Volstagg said. Fandral shrugged.

“There is not much difference, is there?”

“Focus,” Sif said. “One of us can sneak away to Midgard and find Lady Miranda. Heimdall is sure to lend us aid in this.”

“And what of the rest of us?” asked Fandral. Sif thought for a moment.

“Two should follow the Allfather the next time he leaves the citadel. I have no doubt he will take the boy with him. I do not want to leave Benjamin helpless; he seemed scared of the Allfather.”

“Fandral and I can follow the Allfather quietly enough,” Hogun said. “And you have visited Midgard more than any of us, Sif, so you should be the one to go there.”

“Very well,” Sif said. “Now we simply must wait for the Allfather to leave.”

 

A few days later when the Allfather left the citadel with Benjamin, Hogun and Fandral followed them at a distance. Sif went to Heimdall.

Heimdall couldn’t see Miranda — nor could he see the boy any longer.

*****

Miranda was staring out the window at the approaching clouds that were keeping her here. With another storm rolling in, she couldn’t easily convince Sigyn that she couldn’t stay until the weather was better. Plus she didn’t really want to walk in the rain. That would suck.

She watched a rider come in, and whatever news he brought was taken by a butler (or whatever the Asgardian equivalent was), who ran back inside the house.

The master of the house was almost back.

Everyone gathered outside to greet him, a few of the staff (servants? Slaves? Miranda wasn’t quite sure) whispering about who the guest he was bringing with could be. Miranda’s heart was in her throat, not daring to hope it was who she wanted it to be.

She waited stoically next to Sigyn as the carriage pulled up and the driver ran around to open the door. Her jaw clenched as she dug her nails into her palms when Loki climbed out. He turned around and lifted out a little boy.

“Momma!” Ben cried as soon as he saw her. Miranda ran towards him, meeting him halfway and scooping him up into her arms, covering his face with kisses and holding him close. She’d pushed everything aside, barely daring to hope she’d find him on her own, refusing to worry over horrible possibilities, and resolutely keeping her fears in check; but as soon as Ben was in her arms again, the floodgates opened and Miranda was overwhelmed with joy and relief and fury. She didn’t even care that she was crying.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, checking him over for injuries. She didn’t give a damn about the tensions growing behind her, or how the staff hurriedly returned to their posts, the nanny taking the twins inside.

“He said I couldn’t see you,” Ben sobbed, burying his face in her neck. “I missed you, Momma.” Her heart broke.

“Oh, I missed you, too, baby. I missed you so much,” Miranda said, rubbing his back. She turned to look at Loki for the first time, ignoring how much she wanted to bolt or puke. She took a deep breath and focused on the steady heartbeat of her son under her hand.

“Lady Miranda,” Loki said, giving her a small bow.

“You should probably tell your wife who I am,” she said curtly. She turned her back to him again, focusing on Ben. She only half paid attention to the conversation behind her as Loki explained who she was: the Midgardian girl. Ha, girl! As if she was still as naive as she had been when they first met.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked Ben. He shook his head.

“He said I’m a prince. I don’t wanna be a prince!”

“You don’t have to be, baby. It’s just a title, you can give it up when you’re older if you want to,” she assured him.

Ben shook his head.

“Do you want to be a princess?” Miranda asked, wondering if maybe that was the problem. She’d never really cared if Ben picked “boy” or “girl” toys, or if he wanted to wear a dinosaur t-shirt with a purple tutu, but this was the first time he’d said anything one way or another.

“No,” he said, shaking his head again.

“Okay, Ben, you can be whatever you want.”

“He said he’s my father,” Ben said, looking her in the eye almost accusingly.

Miranda swallowed. “He is.” She shifted his weight so it was easier to look at him. “But that doesn’t mean _anything_ _,_ you understand? Not if you don’t want it to.”

“Okay,” Ben said before resting his head on her shoulder again. His arms around her neck tightened and Miranda held him a little closer. She never wanted to let go again.

Miranda heard a rustle in the bushes as the first drops of rain began to fall. When she saw what caused the noise, she smiled in that direction before turning and going into the house.

They were gonna be alright.

*****

Hogun and Fandral were hidden in the foliage surrounding a manor watching as _Loki_ stepped out of the carriage and Benjamin was reunited with his mother.

“I’m not entirely sure what is happening right now,” Fandral said.

“Nor am I,” Hogun said.

Loki addressed Miranda as the staff disappeared back into the manor. She stiffened, her back straightening to her full height and chest puffing out slightly when she responded before turning her back towards him and checking over her son. It was clear that neither mother nor child had planned on coming to Asgard.

When the remaining group began to head inside, the pair of warriors both inched forward without quite noticing that they were — some part of them wanted to grab the Douglases now and speed away. But they couldn’t give themselves away. They needed help if they wanted to help the Douglases.

The pair watched as Miranda turned back, her eyes scanning the trees like she felt them watching. Her eyes settled on them for a moment and she smiled slightly before turning and heading inside, her son held tightly in her arms.

“We need to get back to the citadel,” Fandral said, scrambling up from where they had hidden as soon as it was safe.

“Agreed,” Hogun said, getting up himself.

The two warriors hurried back to their horses and rode as fast as they dared back to the citadel.

They shared their news first, leaving Sif and Volstagg stunned. After the shock wore off, Sif shared what she had learned from Heimdall. The pieces of information made sense together, and the group began to plan a rescue for the Douglases.

*****

In the two weeks since the Douglases had been kidnapped, Bucky had gotten used to Andy’s house. It was strange piecing together her life from just what was in her house, but he felt like he was getting a good picture.

In the front hall, there wasn’t much — a coat rack and small table with a key bowl. It opened into a smartly kept sitting room that didn’t hold much personality at all but looked impressive to guests. To Bucky it looked hollow compared to the other rooms in the house.

If you kept going down the hall, you ran into the kitchen which was decorated in a way that fit better in a farmhouse than the middle of New York, but the robin’s egg blue on the walls looked nice with the artfully chipped and worn white cabinets. The sliding door went out onto the back deck where there was a outdoor dining. The kitchen island was still covered in newspapers and forgotten coffee mugs. One had lipstick marks on the rim from Andy’s lips, which was why it was still sitting there. No one had moved it.

The dining room was nice enough with a cherry dining set big enough to seat eight (ten with the insert, he was told). There was china and glassware on display in the hutch. The table runner and centerpiece had been stowed somewhere since the room had become a hub for their search (and now it was for damage control — the media was having a fucking field day with the possible implications of Andy’s disappearance).

But the last room on that side of the house was the living room, and it was obvious that guests didn’t go in there. The tan couch looked worn and a few cushions had been flipped over to hide stains. The baskets under the coffee table were filled with random items and in one of the corners was a toy bin and bucket of Legos. Soft blankets were left on the couch in a pile instead of being refolded and put on the blanket ladder that held one lonely knit blanket. The TV remote was constantly getting lost because no one put it back on the coffee table or it got lost amongst the cups and papers there. Crayons had rolled under the couch and been forgotten until Bucky had found them. Pillows were tossed on the floor when they weren’t wanted on the couch for one reason of another. There was a thin layer of dust on the entertainment center. The walls had pictures on them instead of art prints. There were posed pictures of everyone standing together in three rows, there were portraits of Ben and some of his “artwork” had gotten framed. There was a picture of Andy, Steve, and Ben with the Statue of Liberty in the background.

The room looked _lived_ in, more than any of the other rooms on the first floor. Even Andy’s office, with it’s patriotic posters and miniature Statue of Liberty and patterned storage boxes didn’t have a quarter of the life and personality the living room had.

Upstairs was arguably better, more lived in. There were four bedrooms, two of which were guest rooms that were kept clean when they weren’t in use. But since they were, they had taken on a bit of their occupant’s personalities.

Ben’s room was as tidy as one would expect a four-year-old’s room to be — and that means it wasn’t very tidy at all. Toys were left on the floor despite the toy bin being open, the sheets were rumpled from being slept in and hadn’t been remade, coloring pages were taped up on the wall and the chalkboard was covered in scribbles and a layer of chalk dust. Stepping on a Lego was a hazard you had to be aware of when walking into the room.

The picture Steve had been staring at a few nights ago sat on the dresser next to the music box and a piggy bank shaped like Steve’s shield. Bucky wound the music box again when it didn’t play upon being opened. Someone was listening to it — probably Steve again, but it could have been anyone else. No one recognised the song though, so Bucky supposed he would have to wait and ask Andy what it was.

While Ben’s room easily had the most life in it with his art and child-sized table covered in a build-your-own-robot kit and stuffed animals, Andy’s room said the most about her.

The bed was a mattress resting on drawers that were probably full of clothes, and there was no headboard. The comforter was purple and cream with pinkish flowers. The decorative pillows were balanced in a pile on the chair in the corner, which also had her bathrobe flung over it and a t-shirt and pyjama shorts sitting by one of the feet. Fluffy blankets rested on the ottoman at the foot of her bed next to a discarded hoodie that look like it may have been stolen from Steve. Or maybe Steve had left it there (in any case it smelled like her perfume).

Her walk-in closet was in slight disarray with shoes kicked off into a corner and belts and scarves lying were they had fallen. She had t-shirts intermingled with blouses and tank tops, jeans next to dress pants, sundresses peeking out between evening gowns and cocktail dresses.

But what held Bucky’s attention every time he went into the room was one of the photos on the wall. He didn’t recognise the blond boy, and he could only assume the girl was Andy when she was about twelve. They were dressed up as Captain America and Agent Carter from the comic books, plastic buckets for Halloween candy in hand. But next to it was an old trading card in a floating frame of himself. He remembered that photo op, when they told the Howlies that they were going to make trading cards for kids. He’d said that it was silly, but then, as now, he thought it was neat. Bucky remembered trading baseball cards on the playground during recess as a kid; and really, how different are Howling Commando cards?

But she really hadn’t been joking when she said she’d always admired him and Steve and Peggy. She really had looked up to them for her whole life.

And yet she hadn’t put either him or Steve on a pedestal when she met them. She saw them as real people, had seen him as a real person before he had even believed that again.

Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if it was ironic that she had looked up to them her whole life but when she needed their help the most, they couldn’t rescue her.

His gaze was ripped from the picture when he saw a bright flash of light outside. Peeking out through the curtains, he saw a dark-haired woman standing in the middle of a complicated knot-design in the backyard.

He hurried downstairs to find Steve, Nat, and Coulson standing on the deck.

“Barnes, meet Lady Sif,” Coulson said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andy's Bedding:   
> 
> 
> The music box in Ben's room plays [ "You'll Be In My Heart." ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JTa-g-HxfY) I forgot to link that before.


	6. An age at least to every part / And the last age should show your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup folks! Here's a longish chapter :)

Dinner was a tense affair. Sigyn was polite, and Miranda was polite in return, but whenever Loki spoke, they both were curt. Ben was old enough to notice the tensions and glanced up at the adults every so often between poking at his food more than eating it.

After the meal, Miranda took Ben up to the room she had stayed in the previous night. They sat there for awhile, watching the stars come out as the day ended.

“Where’s the Big Dipper?” Ben asked, moving around to see more of the sky.

“I don’t know any of the constellations here,” Miranda said. “We’re in a different part of the universe, so the stars that we see are different. One of them might even be our own sun.”

“Really?” Ben asked, looking back over his shoulder. “Which one?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Oh.” Ben sat back down on her lap. “When we go home, can we go stargazing again?”

“Sure, kiddo. We can spend the weekend at the compound if you want.”

“Yay!” he cheered, hugging her before climbing off her lap and running over to jump on the bed. Miranda slowly followed behind, smiling as he burrowed headfirst under the blankets, stopped about halfway down the bed and paused before turning around and popping his head back out. He smooshed his face into one of the pillows before making a dramatic show of yawning as he flipped onto his back.

Miranda perched on the edge of the bed and waited for him to settle, soaking up every precious second.

“Momma?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Why are we here?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” she said, brushing hair back off his face. “I’ll have an answer when you wake up.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes. “Oh! Momma, I almost forgot! I met Lady Sif!” he said, sitting up.

“You did?” That must be how Hogun and Fandral knew to follow them, she realized.

“Mhm!” Ben nodded emphatically. “She’s very nice like you said.”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you, don’t you?” she teased.

“I know,” Ben said, squirming underneath the blankets again. “Is it story-time yet?”

“It sure is,” Miranda said, smiling. She then started to tell Ben his favorite story, because, for all his outward behavior, she knew he was scared. He was never this well-behaved around people he didn’t like.

So she told him the story of “The Kissing Hand”, a book she had long since memorized. And like always, she kissed his palm as he began to drift off and he curled his fingers tightly around it.

Miranda kissed his forehead before getting up and quietly leaving the room.

*****

Miranda strode into the room after knocking. Loki looked up from his book, surprised to see her. Without saying anything, she sat in the armchair next to him and tossed the chip Skuld had pulled off her head to him.

He caught it with ease, eyebrows raised when he recognized what it was.

They stared at each other for a few moments, each determined in their own way.

“Why are we here?” Miranda asked.

“For your protection,” Loki said.

“From what, exactly?”

“Thanos has turned his eye towards Midgard for the Infinity Stones there,” Loki said, rising and moving to stand next to the fireplace. “Both you and our son are safer here than elsewhere for the time being.”

“He’s  _ my _ son,” Miranda stressed. “And where do you plan on moving us then? Assumably you’re also moving your wife and children.”

Loki glared at her for a moment before replying. “Yes, I plan to move them as well. I’m meeting with Hela overmorrow to make final arrangements before you all go to stay with her until this all blows over.”

“I’m flattered by your concern,” she began dryly, “but I’d rather be fighting alongside my family to stop Thanos than be hiding in another dimension or on another planet.”

“You would be slaughtered, all of you.”

“Then I’ll go down fighting. I’m stronger than you know,” she said, rising herself.

“I’m aware of your body count, as Midgardians call it,” Loki said, stepping towards her. She took a step back. “But your merry band of Avengers don’t stand a chance against Thanos.”

“They will if they have time to prepare,” Miranda countered. “Are you really going to whisk us away and let my home be destroyed without a fair fight?”

“I have told you before I would sacrifice Midgard for you, or have you forgotten that?”

“And when I loved you I was flattered. But now, now I’m a dignitary. I have a responsibility to protect people. I swore an oath!”

“As have I! I swore I would protect you and our child. I do not intend to go back on that now simply because you have grown selfish and reckless.”

“Me? You’re the one parading around as Odin, hiding people in holes in the ground and claiming you’re protecting them! If you have ever had any love for me then allow me to have the dignity of choosing how I die.”

Loki was silent as he retreated back towards the fireplace. Miranda watched as he turned the tiny chip over in his fingers. “I had hoped that you would stay put until I came for you, and if not, to have kept you from reaching your allies here. Years ago it would have been enough.” He looked up from the flames to look her in the eye. “But you have changed more than I anticipated.”

“And what does that mean?” Miranda asked.

“I miscalculated.” They locked eyes for a time, listening to the crackle and pop of the fire. “Come with me in two days and meet Hela for yourself.”

“Does Sigyn know what you’re planning?”

“About as much as you know now.”

“I can’t imagine she likes me being here.”

“If she had known who you are to me when you meet, I doubt she would have. But you have... charmed her.”

Miranda swallowed thickly. The way he said “charmed”...  _ Your second child shall be born of three, from marriage bed of one fair, one dark, and thee. _

She struggled to push down her growing panic.

“If I don’t like Hela, what then? Will you take us home?”

“We will discuss that upon our return if we must. Goodnight, my lady,” he said, bowing to her before he left the room.

Once he was gone, Miranda let a few tears fall before wiping them away and soothing her dress. Then she walked back to her room with her head held high.

She curled around Ben when she laid down, pressing a kiss to his head when he snuggled closer in his sleep. If she cried until she fell asleep, no one needed to know.

*****

“So you’re saying that Loki has been disguised as Odin since Andy and Thor left Asgard three years ago,” Steve said slowly like one of the variables were wrong. The group was gathered around the dining table now, and Sif had just finished telling them what she and the Warriors Three knew.

“Aye, it appears that way,” Sif said.

“Then why come for them now?” Nat asked. “Something must have happened.”

“I think that Loki is more concerned with what may come,” Sif said. “Midgard has made it known that they can withstand and repel an invasion; and as the Allfather, Loki began expressing concern about a being called Thanos and his growing power.”

“So he took them to protect them,” Coulson said. “Well, that’ll make it easy it get them back,” he continued sarcastically.

“It’s not like we’re going to ask nicely,” Bucky said. The others looked at him, all a bit surprised by how harsh he sounded. “Look, if we’re getting them back, we’re not asking, we’re taking. I had to sit back and watch Andy be treated like property before. Loki isn’t gonna just let her go, and with Ben… “ He shook his head. “He’s not going to just give up his firstborn. He was overjoyed when Andy finally told him she was pregnant. Threw a huge party and gave her all sorts of gifts. He made sure that she wouldn’t have to lift a finger if she didn’t want to.”

“She probably hated that,” Steve said.

“She fucking hated every second of it,” Bucky said. “And I don’t know what she’s told Ben about him, but…” They all knew he meant that it probably wasn’t good things if anything at all. Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“We should bring them home as soon as possible,” Nat said. “But I assume we can’t all go?” she asked Sif.

“It would be unwise to send a large party. But I came here with the intention of bringing one or two of you to Asgard to aid in retrieving Lady Miranda and her son.”

“Then I guess you two are going to Asgard,” Coulson said, looking at Steve and Bucky, both of whom were taken aback for a moment. “We’ve spoken a few times since she got back.”

Steve nodded. “She always has her secrets.”

“That she does.”

“I’m going to call Tony, let him know about this… development,” Nat said, getting up from the table to make the call in private.

“And I’m going to inform my team,” Coulson said. “I’m sure you all have a lot to discuss before you leave,” he continued before leaving the room himself.

Steve glanced at Bucky, who was frowning at the tabletop. He wondered what was going through his best friend’s head. But he barely knew what was going on in his.

He felt… lighter, he supposed, now that they had a chance to get them back. But part of him was more worried than before — he remembered what Miranda had been like when they’d rescued her in Belgium, all the aftermath. He knew Nat did, too. They both had a picture of Miranda’s bloody wraps in their head and knew how Miranda had a tendency to not mention how she was doing. She’d been getting better — so much better — but now all her progress could be undone. Four years of healing undone in two weeks.

They needed to act, and now that they  _ could _ , they needed to act quickly.

*****

Miranda sat under a tree in the garden making a flower crown for Ben, who was playing some imaginative spy game that required scaling the tree, hiding in bushes, and whispering into a comm on his wrist. She glanced up at Ben to see how high he’d gotten. A fall would hurt, but he was a sure-footed kid.

She watched his face contort into a scowl. Ben pulled an acorn off the nearest branch and shimmied to get a better grip on the limb he was on before throwing it as hard as he could at someone behind Miranda. She bit her lip to keep from laughing when it hit Loki in the face.

“Don’t yell at him, he might fall,” she said lightly. “And no, I’m not going to scold him either,” she continued before he could open his mouth. She added another flower to the chain. “I assume you sought us out with a purpose in mind.”

“You said you made yourself dangerous. Show me what you’ve learned,” Loki said, offering his hand to help her to her feet.

She ignored it as she stood, looking up in the tree at Ben, who had hidden amongst the leaves. Miranda waved for him to come down. Reluctantly, he did. Miranda gently placed the flower crown on his head before standing between him and Loki.

“There’s too much to show all at once.”

“We have time, my lady,” he said. Miranda took a deep breath.

Within the hour, they had both changed into clothes that were easier to move in. They met in a small dirt courtyard. Miranda told Ben to stay put when she set him on his feet in the grass.

She took the offered dummy dagger and turned it over in her hands before dropping into a defensive stance a few feet away from Loki. They circled each other for a moment. Miranda let her eyes stay closed longer and longer like she was tired and couldn’t keep them open. Eventually, he took the bait and lunged forward.

Miranda sidestepped at the last second, keeping her eyes closed.

She had thought it was silly to train without seeing, with only using her other senses to defend herself or her powers, but know she was grateful for it. It was intimidating.

After series of blocks and attacks and side-steps with her eyes closed, she opened them and attacked full force. She pulled from everything she had learned: from Bucky at Versailles, Sif and Frigga in the citadel of Asgard, Nat and the other Avengers in the Tower and then the Compound, even her old boxing knowledge.

She kept him on his toes until she laid him flat on his back.

“I can protect my son,” she said, throwing the weighted wood dagger down hard enough that it stuck upright in the dirt.

“I can see that,” Loki said, groaning slightly as he sat up.

“Good.” Miranda turned on her heel and strode over to Ben, scooping him up in her arms. She pretended she didn’t notice that he stuck his tongue out at Loki as they left.

Ben didn’t stop babbling about how cool it was to watch her fight for over an hour. He was adorable, running around in the grassy shade, kicking and punching at the air with sound-effects.

Then he ran over to her and plopped down dramatically, rolling onto his back. “And then you knocked him on his ass!”

“You learned that from your Uncle Tony, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaaybeeee,” he said. “Can you teach me to fight like you?”

“Why do you want to fight?”

“Dad says he fights cause he doesn’t like bullies. Uncle Tony fights cause he feels like he has to to protect people,” Ben said, repeating something he’d no doubt heard from Pepper. “And Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint and Uncle Sam fight ‘cause it’s their job. And because they think it’s right.”

“But why do  _ you _ want to learn how to fight?”

He looked up at her. “Because I wanna be like you. And them.”

Miranda looked down at her son, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Okay. Come on, on your feet,” she said. “Lesson one begins now, kiddo.”

*****

Tony came over to Miranda’s house a few hours later. Phil and Nat were cooking something in the kitchen, and Steve and Bucky had just finished making a plan with Sif.

The first thing Steve noticed was how grim he looked.

“When are you planning on leaving?” Tony asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Steve said. Tony nodded.

“Washington isn’t too happy about all this. Plus they don’t believe she’s off-world, so,” Tony said, taking a seat across from Steve.

“Where do they think she is, then?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, they are pointing the finger at various extremist groups — ones that are anti-Inhuman or mutant, mostly. But any of those groups would have posted a video by now threatening to execute her.”

“Those groups couldn’t have known ahead of time she was a mutant,” Steve said. “She didn’t even mention it to her PR team until she wanted to come forward.”

“Apparently the motivation was purely from her being a proponent for equality,” Tony said, leaning back.

“That sounds flimsy at best,” Bucky said.

“Why do your leaders refuse to believe that Lady Miranda was taken off world?” Sif asked.

“Because the general public would lose faith in her returning. Her support of the Accords placated a lot of people. Without her, it would be difficult to keep people on board,” Tony said. “You’re Lady Sif, right?”

“Aye.”

“How’s Thor? We haven’t heard from him in awhile.”

“I wish I knew. He left a few years ago and no one has heard from him since.”

“Well, so much for that idea. But… Would you be willing to tell people that she’s off-world? They’d probably believe you, since you’re, well, Asgardian.”

“No offense, Tony, but how is that going to help get her back? We have a plan,” Steve said.

“Cap, I know you miss her. We all do. But the fact of the matter is, she’s a political figure. And a popular one at that. People need to know that she’ll be fine, that she’s been located, and that she’ll be brought back. This isn’t like Belgium — we can’t just go in and get out without telling anyone what we’re doing.”

Before Steve could say anything Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. He took him to the living room and turned to him.

“What was that for?” Steve demanded.

“You’re being an idiot. You woulda said something you’d regret if I hadn’t pulled you outta there,” Bucky said. “I know you wanna get her back, but we gotta be smart about this. Tony knows Washington, he knows how to play the long game. You don’t.”

“Buck —”

“No, I know you, and you’ve never been good at the long game. I’m not either, but… we can’t bring her back to a huge fucking mess, Steve. She’s going to need time to recover and she won’t take it if she has to do damage control.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. He knew Bucky was right. But he needed her back — more than he was willing to admit. He hadn’t been sleeping well, not that it shows. And he’d grown used to her being around. She was one of the only people he’d meet since waking up that cared more about him than about Captain America. She’d even said to the press that she wasn’t dating Captain America. They had been hounding them both, and finally, she snapped, turning around and staring one unfortunate reporter in the eye.

“No, I’m not dating Captain America — I’m dating Steve Rogers. Now, if you would kindly go back to your tiny cubicle, I’m taking my boyfriend to the movies,” she’d said, clearly holding back from telling her and the others to fuck off. Sam had teased him about his heart eyes for a week after he saw the clip (which went viral overnight and had lead to all kinds of discussion about what she had meant since everyone had thought of Captain America and Steve Rogers as one and the same).

And that was when they had still been faking it.

“I just want her back,” Steve said. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. He didn’t see how Bucky was looking at him, but Bucky had just realized that Miranda meant as much — if not more — to Steve as she did to himself.

“And we’ll get her back. We just have to get things ready for her,” Bucky said, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Andy’s a lot stronger than you think — she can make it another day or two.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feedback is greatly appreciated :) :) :)


	7. Nor would I love at lower rate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot and some feels to get you through your Tuesday (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> This chapter has special guest stars: Raoul Crevecoeur, Peggy Carter, the Howling Commandoes, Howard & Maria Stark, Edwin & Ana Jarvis, and Director Mason.

Miranda was hesitant to leave Ben,  and it broke her heart to gently pry his hands off her skirt. She crouched down so she could look him in the eye.

“I won’t be gone long, baby,” she promised, wiping a tear off his cheek. “Just a few hours, that’s all.”

“Take me with you!”

“I’m going somewhere I’ve never been to see if it’s safe. I don’t want you to get hurt, Ben. If I knew you wouldn’t get hurt, I would take with in a heartbeat. You’ll be safe here, with Sigyn and her boys,” she explained gently. He nodded, and she kissed his forehead as she stood up. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Momma,” Ben said, hugging her legs tightly. But he let go after a moment and Miranda stepped away.

Loki offered her his arm, which she hesitantly took. She gave Ben a small wave, and then they were gone, traveling through a stream of color and light. When they landed, they were surrounded by what looked like an endless rolling field of grass that was crisscrossed with paths. People milled about, chatting and laughing.

“Don’t let any of the dead touch you,” Loki warned. “If they do, you must remain here.” Miranda nodded, dropping his arm and stepping away.

“And how will the children not want to play?” Miranda asked, her eyes following a group of children playing tag.

“They will learn not to,” Loki said before striding towards a woman walking towards them. 

Miranda stood back a short ways while they greeted each other, partially paying attention to them and partially paying attention to the children as they ran around. Her heart felt tight when she thought about how these children were dead, but at least here they were happy and healthy in ways they probably hadn’t been in life.

She followed Loki and Hela, trying to pay attention to what they were talking about, but the dead stole her attention away time and time again. There were so many of them, of different ages and time periods and ethnicities and languages. It was beautiful and it was haunting. There were soldiers and warriors, mothers and children, lovers and friends, poets and philosophers — people from every possible walk of life. She saw Buddhist monks conversing with Catholic monks, Renaissance scholars speaking with Greek philosophers, young mothers with grandmothers, peasants and farmers. And then she saw him.

Without thinking, she sprinted off the path and through the tall grass towards him, calling his name and waving as she drew nearer before gathering her skirt in her arms so she could run properly. He turned around and god, she thought she’d never get to see those brown eyes again, but there he was looking the same as he had in life. Her heart was soaring and she could feel the happy tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

“Andy!” he cried, his face lighting up as he ran towards her. Miranda stopped short when they were only a few feet apart. It was him, it was  _ Raoul _ , and she was so close she could reach out and touch —

“Wait, Raoul, you can’t touch me. I’m not dead,” she said, holding a hand out to stop him.

“Fuck, I want to hug you!”

“I know; me, too,” she said, struggling to keep her arms by her side.

“I  _ am _ glad you’re not dead though,” Raoul said. “You’ve got a lot to live for.”

Miranda just smiled, blinking back tears. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You got old,” Raoul quipped. Miranda chuckled.

“I suppose I did. Sometimes older than I thought I’d get.” She paused. “How much do you know about —”

“What’s happened to you since I died?” Raoul finished. She nodded. “I had a better picture when you would talk to my grave, but I know most of it. The SparkNotes version, you could say. So, yeah, I know about your kid and I know you kept your promise to never name someone after me.”

“I was tempted, but I knew you would have hated it,” Miranda smiled.

“Damn right,” he grinned. “And I forgive you for not visiting me in a few years,” he teased. “I know you didn’t exactly have many opportunities.”

“I can’t believe you heard me.”

“Sure did. It took a long time to accept the fact that I couldn’t tell you anything. The most I could do was help you heal.”

“I always did feel better after talking to you,” she said, thinking back. Whenever she had left his graveside, she had felt lighter and a bit more at peace for a while. It was partly why she had kept it up.

“Anyway, why are you here if you’re not dead? You’re not trying to bring anybody back, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“No, no nothing like that,” she said emphatically. Though she began to wonder if she could bring Steve back if he was — no. He wasn’t. Was he? “Loki just thinks this is a safe place for his family and Ben and I to… wait out Thanos.”

“Pffft. If Thanos wanted to get to you, he would. Hela wouldn’t care much, I think. She’d be gaining another soul, so what would it be to her if you died?”

“You make a good point,” Miranda said absently, mulling it over. “Though she would make an enemy of Loki.”

“Only if he survives Thanos,” Raoul pointed out. Miranda nodded.“Is there anybody you want to meet? I’ve met the Howlies! And the Starks! AND Agent Carter!” Raoul said excitedly, jumping up and down.

“That’s great. And actually, there’s someone I do want to find. Or rather, not find,” Miranda said, looking around at the passersby, like one of them might be familiar and shatter her hope. Steve couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be.

“Steven isn’t here, Ms. Douglas,” a familiar voice said. Miranda felt her shoulders sag in relief. Steve wasn’t dead. Peggy of all people would know.  _ He wasn’t dead. _ “He’s recovering quite well, actually.”

“I hope he doesn’t push too hard and re-injure himself,” she said, turning to face Peggy. “But I think we both know him well enough to know that hope is pretty slim.”

Peggy laughed. “It truly is.”

*****

Steve leaned against the wall, pinching his brow. The flash of cameras and chatter of reporters was becoming too much and he hadn’t even stepped out yet. Only SHIELD director Mason had so far to field a few questions and explain why they were there.

His suit coat felt too small, his tie too tight. But he couldn’t adjust, not until after he went out in front of the cameras. Though maybe if he looked as stressed and worn out as he felt it would help their case.

But, God help him, he couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he’d gone out in front of a horde of reporters. Miranda had been nervous, though you couldn’t really tell if you didn’t know her, and the eruption of questions that followed her announcement and them signing the Accords was louder than any other press conference Steve had been too — and the gunshot still echoed in his ears, the way it rang out even with a silencer. How Miranda sounded, pleading with him to live — even if that was second-hand. He couldn’t stop hearing her, over and over again and it felt like there was a hole in his chest and he couldn’t breathe.

“Relax, Steve,” Natasha said, rubbing his arm.

“I’m trying,” he said, letting his head drop forward. “I haven’t been able to since I found out they were missing.”

“I know. None of us have.”

“Is Clint doing alright?”

“He’s recovering, same as you. He also feels guilty. But none of us saw this coming,” she said. “We  _ couldn’t _ have seen this coming.”

“Sometimes that just makes it seem worse.”

“Sometimes,” she agreed. Then she pulled him into a hug. “You and Barnes will bring them home.”

Tony tapped on the door as he entered the room. “Sif is up in two. Are you sure you’re up for this, Steve?”

“I’ll be fine, Tony, thank you,” Steve said, pushing off the wall. He straightened his coat and tie. Tony nodded, absently rubbing his chest where the arc reactor had once glowed brightly.

“Then get ready. It’s almost showtime.”

*****

It wasn’t long before a small crowd had gathered around Miranda. The Howlies had come by looking for Peggy, Dum Dum nearly clapping Miranda on the shoulder before Raoul grabbed his arm and told him she was still alive.

“Sorry, miss, I forget we can’t touch the living. Cap would kill me all over again if I kept his best girl from him,” he said. Miranda chuckled.

“Bucky would, too,” added Gabe.

“I didn’t want to get on his bad side before, like hell I would now!” Dum Dum said.

“Probably a good idea,” Miranda said. “How much do you… know about what happened to him?” she asked hesitantly, wondering if they had been watching over their friend as Raoul had been watching over her.

“Not much. We thought it was weird that he and Cap weren’t waiting for us when we got here, but we had no idea what had happened to Bucky until Howard showed up. Didn’t know much about what happened to Cap ‘till they thawed him out,” he said.

“We still don’t know much about Barnes,” Peggy said. “We can watch, but we can’t look backward without difficulty. We would have to know where he had been since so much of what happened to him was during our lifetimes.” She looked at Miranda, eyes full of sympathy and guilt. “I asked the same thing when I arrived. You’ll have to ask Barnes if you want an answer. Though Agent Romanov may have a few; the Red Room was a similar program.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said.

“Peggy! There you are,” an older man said. That was when Miranda realized that Peggy and the Howlies looked like their young selves, as they had during the war. This man did not, but she recognized him all the same as Howard Stark.

A tall, lanky, harried-looking gentleman trailed just behind him. He shot Peggy an apologetic look, as did the two women that came with them.

“Howard,” Peggy greeted coolly, crossing her arms.

“Peggy, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“And how can I do that? Tony isn’t here!”

Peggy gestured towards Miranda, who straightened in surprise. “Ms. Douglas can take a message to him when she turns to the living. Unless you would rather wait to talk to him.” Howard paled slightly at that.

“You’re a friend of Tony’s?” asked the blonde woman. Miranda nodded and the woman smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling the same way Tony’s did.

“Yes, Mrs. Stark, I am.”

“Tell him we love and miss him, would you? And tell him not to hurry. We’ll be patient.”

“Of course.”

“He’s not been too hard on himself, has he?” asked the other woman, a red-head. “I do regret havin’ to leave him.”

“Varies by day,” Miranda said truthfully. The three glanced over to Peggy and Howard, whose argument had gotten suddenly louder. “But he’s getting better, I think.” Then after a beat, she turned to Maria Stark. “Dum Dum said something about not knowing what happened to Bucky Barnes until after you two showed up. What did he mean?”

Maria shared a glance with the other woman. “You have to remember I didn’t know him during the war, not like Howard did. I didn’t know it was him.”

“Didn’t know who was him?” Miranda asked, a pit of dread beginning to take hold in her stomach. She had a feeling she didn’t want to know.

“The man who killed us,” Maria said. “The Winter Soldier, I believe they called him.”

“They did, yeah,” Miranda said, feeling like her world was tilting on its access again. She should tell Tony, right? As soon as she got back, she should tell him.

But then what would Tony do to Bucky? Would he forgive him? Or would he kill him?

_ Should she tell him or not? _

“Howard, this is Miranda Douglas,” Peggy said, breaking Miranda out of her whirling thoughts. “Ms. Douglas, this is Howard and Maria Stark, and Ana and Edwin Jarvis,” she continued, finishing introductions. Miranda politely smiled and nodded towards the Jarvises. “Now, Howard, say your bit.”

He cleared his throat. “If you would be so kind, I ask that you take a message to Tony for me.”

“Of course,” Miranda said. “I think it’d be good for him the hear from you.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell him that I’m sorry. I should have been a better father — I  _ could _ have been a better father, but I wasn’t. And now he’s like me in some ways. But in others, he’s better. I think I always knew he’d be a better man than me, and he’s proven it. Tell him I’m proud of him.” Howard nodded absently to himself.

“I’ll tell him,” Miranda promised.

Maria took Howard’s arm and smiled gently. “Thank you, Ms. Douglas. We appreciate it.” Then they left, and the Howlies had dispersed shortly after.

But not before Gabe translated for Denier. “He says that Cap and Bucky are idiots if they let you go, and they should marry you before it’s too late.”

Miranda chuckled, feeling a bit awkward. “I’ll pass it along.”

Then they left, and soon after the Jarvises as well, them both wishing Tony and Pepper well. Ana stressed that they needed to set a wedding date soon, and Miranda laughed, agreeing.

And then it was just Miranda, Peggy, and Raoul again.

*****

Loki slowly wandered the paths with Hela, Miranda trailing slightly behind. Hel was not the best place perhaps, but it was a good one. There was little reason for Thanos to come here, and if he did, by then it would matter little anyway as much of the universe would already be lost.

He had stopped glancing back at Miranda for a time, and the next time he looked over his shoulder, she was gone.

He stopped walking, looking around methodically. Her bright blue dress was sure to stand out, and her silhouette was ever recognizable to him, even after all these years. He saw her several yards away, talking and laughing with some dead boy. He had never seen her so happy, so free. And he hated the boy for it. Who was he, being dead, that could make her laugh so when the living could not? What made him so special?

He thanked Hela for her time and excused himself, striding through the grass towards Miranda and the dead boy. Her back was towards him, but he could tell she was smiling and laughing and restraining herself from reaching out to the boy. And the woman who was with them — someone else Miranda had known, it seemed. Something about her made Miranda relaxed. Who were these people that in  _ death  _ they meant more to her than he apparently ever had in life? How was that  _ fair _ ?

Loki grabbed her arm and was completely unprepared for the punch to the jaw that followed. His grip loosened in surprise, enough that Miranda was able to yank her arm free. She didn’t even look sorry.

“It is time for us to leave,” he said, rubbing his jaw.

“Alright,” she said coolly. She turned back to the woman and the boy and said her goodbyes, blowing air kisses to the boy, a gesture he returned. Loki noticed how reluctant she was to leave him.

When they were some distance away, he asked who he was.

“The only person I love that you can’t use to hurt me,” she said, striding past him. She waited on the path for him to catch up, wordlessly taking his arm when he approached.

He knew he had hurt her, and hurt her deeply. It frustrated him beyond words that there was nothing he could do to mend their relationship, but he wasn’t ready to let her go, to let his son go. Bastard or no, Benjamin was his firstborn.

When they returned, Miranda went straight to Benjamin, scooping him up in her arms and speaking softly to him. It was so painfully obvious that she was his mother, and the bond they shared was unshakeable. He had never stopped asking for her while Loki had kept him in the citadel, and they were rarely apart now, here.

Sigyn greeted him warmly, asking how he found Hel and its queen. When she got no response, she followed his gaze. “You still love her, I know, but not how you think. You love who she was to you. And though you may be the boy’s father, he is not your son. Not the way our sons are.”   
“You are of one mind on that,” he replied.

“You don’t agree.”

“He is my first born, Sigyn, I cannot simply let her walk away with him.”

“No,  _ you _ can’t,” Sigyn said, sighing. “But you must. Lady Miranda is a kind soul; she would never impress a negative opinion of you onto her son. She is letting him forge his own path and is open with him. He has always known he is different than other children, but being here has scared him. You have done more harm to his opinion of you than she ever did,” she said gently.

Loki looked at her, taking in her soft expression and how she held his arm and hand to comfort him. She was telling him the truth as she saw it, and he couldn’t refute her entirely. “I fear you may be right,” he admitted. “But that is why I cannot let them go.”

“I know. We just need to give them a reason to stay then, don’t we?” Sigyn said with a small smirk.

“We shall,” he said. Then they walked inside together, arm in arm.

*****

As soon as Steve stepped out, he regretted agreeing to the conference. He wanted to duck back into the room they’d come out of, back to the relative quiet of the space before slipping out entirely and going back to Miranda’s house, to the comfort that was there and to Bucky, who had stayed behind. They (being Nat and Tony) had decided that it was too soon after Bucky’s release to bring him into the public eye so sharply. There was already enough speculation about his and Miranda’s relationship as it was; enough that some were questioning Pierce’s sudden death now that everyone knew Miranda was a mutant.

_ Not that they shouldn’t,  _ Steve thought, his own mind betraying him for a moment. He didn’t want to focus on that, not now. 

Nat squeezed his hand, bringing him back and grounding him. He nodded to answer her unasked question:  _ are you sure you can do this? _

Steve Rogers wasn’t one to back down.

They all sat down at the long table on either side of the podium, Director Mason still standing there. After they settled, he introduced Tony to the podium. As the Secretary of Defense and a known close friend of Miranda’s, he was the best person to introduce Lady Sif and provide a reason for people to listen to her.

Steve didn’t hear a word he said. The only thing keeping him grounded at this point was the weight of Nat’s hand on his own as the room spun around him. He felt disoriented and jumpy; almost like how he had felt when Wanda had created his fearscape a few years prior.

Then Tony stepped aside and Sif took the podium. Steve knew what she was going to tell them: about how Loki was alive, how he was masquerading as Odin, how he took the Douglases; about Thanos and the threat he poses not just to Asgard, or just to Earth, but to the universe. Everything she had told them, but with more pauses and more explanations so that people would understand not only what was happening, but the severity of it as well.

Steve hoped they would — and quickly because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay there, facing some of the very same reporters who had no doubt capitalized on the assassination attempt and Miranda’s subsequent disappearance, on what Miranda had said when she was pressing his chest with her own two hands and what may have gone on between her and Bucky during his time as her bodyguard. Maybe the reporter who started the rumor that Ben was Bucky’s was in this room. Maybe the reporter who gave Miranda her moniker of “Lady Liberty” was as well.

Maybe the person who shot him was here.

Within the half second of panic the thought sent through him, Steve turned to look for Miranda, to ask her to look, to find out if anyone was thinking something strange. But then he remembered where he was, and the weight of it was crushing. Getting used to the idea of Miranda not being near was harder than he thought it would be; just like when he had tried to get used to Bucky not living in his back pocket.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Captain Rogers won’t be taking any questions right now,” Natasha said. 

She nudged him gently and they both rose, effectively ending the conference. Though Steve supposed it was over anyway, regardless of them leaving or not. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d opened up to questions.

“Thank you,” he said as soon as they were away from the reporters.

“Anytime,” Nat replied. “Steve, are you sure you’re alright? I’ve never seen you this shaken.”

“I just... “ He paused. How could he put it into words without sounding weak and frail? He’d gotten shot, it’s not like it was the first time that had happened in his life. It wasn’t even the first time he’d almost died — that had happened when he was five and had the measles, which had left him partially deaf in his right ear. So what the hell was wrong with him?

“I’ll ask Lady Sif if she’ll take you and Barnes to Asgard tonight,” Nat said when he didn’t answer. He looked her in the eye and knew she understood. They both had learned not to show any weakness from a young age.

“Thanks, Nat.”


	8. And your quaint honor turn to rust, / And into ashes all my lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from the void* Hi! Here's a new chapter. Fingers crossed I finish the last two by the time the year is out. *returns to the void*

They were lounging in one of the private family rooms since the wind and rain had picked up outside and they could not sit in the gardens. Sigyn sat at a loom, weaving a story into the threads, as the children ran and jumped about on the furniture. Ben had introduced the twins to “The Floor Is Lava” and it seemed to be going well. Miranda quietly watched the three children to make sure that they were being careful and not cracking their skulls open on the flagstone floor. The fur rug was not enough cushion to prevent injury, but they all were light on their feet and balanced as they leaped from cushion to cushion.

“You seem to be in much better spirits since you visited Hela with Loki,” Sigyn said.

“I ran into some old friends,” she said. “It was nice to speak with them again.”

“So you agree with him that it is a good place for us and the children?”

Miranda looked at Sigyn, surprised by how unsure she sounded. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh,” Sigyn sighed, turning back to her loom. “I trust my husband to do what is best for us, truly, I do, but…”

“You trust the opinion of another mother more,” Miranda finished, moving to sit at Sigyn’s side. She nodded her gaze meeting Miranda’s for a brief moment. “Sigyn, if you want my honest opinion, it’s this: Loki does what is best, it’s just it’s what is best for himself. He thinks he means well, he does, but his ambition is always the priority.”

“I am loath to admit the truth in that,” Sigyn said softly.

“So was I,” Miranda admitted.

“Has he changed since you knew him?”

“In some ways more than others,” Miranda said. Sigyn nodded, focusing again on her weaving. “He loves you,” she blurted, feeling like she needed to comfort her. Like she needed to let Sigyn know that Loki treated her differently, treated her better. “You and your sons. I — I have checked, with my powers. If I’m honest, it was because I don’t trust him, but also because I had to know what he thought of me.”

“He loves you as well,” Sigyn said.

“No,” Miranda rebutted, shaking her head. “He lusts for me but does not love me. I’m special, I fought back, submitted only when I chose to and only to get what I wanted. I gave my body, and for a time I think my heart, too,” she said, fiddling with a discarded length of string, “but never my soul. I never submitted completely.”

“So he thinks of you as a conquest?”

“It certainly seems that way.” She glanced at Sigyn. “Though I think we both know I’m oversimplifying it.”

“Hey, no fair!” Ben cried, jumping off the cushion to help Vali back to his feet. “You can’t push ‘im off like that!” he scolded Nari, who stuck his tongue out at him and jumped to a new cushion.

Miranda shook her head, smiling fondly as she got to her feet to intervene before things got out of hand. Ben was far too likely to go after Nari and make him apologize, and with the language barrier (Ben spoke English and the twins barely spoke, though what they knew was Norse anyway), that wasn’t going to go well.

A few minutes later, the crisis was averted and the children were playing something else. They spent the rest of the morning relatively calmly. Miranda didn’t miss the glances that Sigyn sent her way, but she chose to ignore them.

*****

The television was on in the background, not that anyone was really listening as they read through article after article about the press conference. There were skeptics, sure, but there were far more who  _ believed _ . People believed that Sif was telling the truth and that the Douglases were on Asgard, safer than if with a radical group, but still in danger. It felt like a breath of relief to know that they were garnering support and making progress.

Natasha sat near Phil waiting for a call from Washington — the call that would give permission for a rescue mission.

Damn the Accords.

Bucky leaned against the house, watching Steve as he paced back and forth across the deck like a caged lion. He was restless, too, but he had long since learned to lie in wait, motionless as a coiled snake that won’t strike until you step too close. Steve had never had that much patience, not when it was something he cared about. Nonetheless, they both hurried into the house when they heard Natasha’s phone ring.

Natasha looked up as they entered the room, the slightest swell in her chest as she thanked the man on the line and hung up. She gave Steve and Bucky a sharp nod and the whole room let out a breath of relief. Then they were off, getting ready to leave with Sif as soon as possible.

“I’m surprised you’re not going with them,” Phil said casually.

“This will only work with a small team that can get in and out quickly,” Natasha replied. “And do you really think that either of them would agree to stay here?”

Phil raised his hands in surrender, agreeing with her. There was no chance of it, even though they were all a bit nervous about Steve going into the thick of things so soon. He wasn’t fully healed yet, they all knew it — but there was no way that Steve Rogers was going to stay still any longer. He knew where Miranda was and there was nothing that could stop him now.

He would drive himself there if he could.

“Natasha,” Bucky said from the doorway, “do you think… Do you think you could get her parents here, so they’re waiting for her?” Natasha nodded, already pulling up their contact information. Bucky nodded sharply once before leaving.

“We should see them off,” Phil said, getting to his feet. Natasha followed, pressing the phone to her ear.

Everyone gathered outside to see them off, the trio standing in the center of the Nordic knot that Sif’s arrival had created.

“Heimdall,” Sif shouted, “we are ready.”

*****

“You always were fond of gardens,” he said. “Even once winter came.”

Miranda glanced over her shoulder back at him. “It was better than being inside.”

“You spent a lot of time in the gardens of Versailles,” Loki said, sitting down next to her. “I remember when you told me about their original purpose.”

“Of course you would remember the pleasure gardens.” She shook her head, almost fondly, as she looked out over the garden. Most of the flowers were fading and in need of being deadheaded, and the roses would need to be wrapped against the cold before the frost came, but the garden was still lovely. Miranda could feel the chill of cold in her cheeks and nose and toes but didn’t care at all. Because he was right: she was fond of gardens.

“I am returning to the Citadel the day after tomorrow. Do you still desire to get there?”

“No,” she said, pulling her cloak around tighter around her shoulders. “Not unless you allow Ben and I to leave on the Bifrost.” When Loki didn’t say anything for a moment, she looked over at him and watched him stare at his hands.

“I wish you wanted to stay, but I know you are more stubborn than I, and I cannot change your mind,” he said. “That is one thing about you that has not changed.”

“I had to adapt,” she said, curling her hand the same way Wanda had hundreds of times, a faint electric film flowing from her fingertips. “My mutation goes farther than controlling minds, though not by much. I can control the electrical impulses responsible for the brain’s functions. Humans, we all have an electric signature, and I can sense that. With some work I can make mine visible,” she continued, dropping the film and her hand. “Though it’s just for show unless I can make skin to skin contact.” She looked him in the eye. “With power like that, and with the world how it is, I’ve had to change. I’ve had to grow hard and cunning and cruel. I’m more like you than I want to be.”

“Then perhaps our paths have not diverged as far as either of us had thought,” Loki said, meeting her gaze.

“Perhaps not.”

They stared at each other for a long time. Miranda couldn’t help but think about that warm autumn afternoon when they had gone for a walk through the gardens of Versailles, wandering aimlessly along the paths. Somehow the conversation had turned to Versailles itself and Miranda had found herself repeating everything she remembered about Louis XIV and his “pleasure palace.” They had, of course, returned the gardens to their age-old purpose since they were empty of tourists and prying eyes. She never did find that stocking again.

Before she was aware of it, they were leaning closer together, Loki’s hand resting on the bench just behind her. They could feel the warmth of each other’s breath as it mixed together. Tensing, Miranda leaned back slightly.

“We can’t,” she whispered. “You’re married now.”

“And I have spoken with Sigyn about this. She has given me her approval,” he replied. “But you are worried about what your dear captain would think,” he continued, leaning back himself.

“I can’t get his approval from here.”

“But are you not more inclined to ask forgiveness than permission?”

Miranda glanced down, a bit embarrassed by how true the statement was. She always had had a habit of asking for forgiveness instead of permission, even when she was a kid. It had gotten worse after Raoul died, to be sure, and she had steadily grown more reckless until — well, until sometime around when she realized she was pregnant. But even now she was reckless, just maybe a bit less. Or more, depending on how you looked at it. She was always playing with fire; though she had only gotten burned twice.

But with this, with regressing back to her old self as Loki’s companion, would she be able to forgive herself? Steve would, in all his kindness, she was sure. Eventually anyway. The same with Bucky. Even now, he still thought of her the same way as he had years ago. Ben would grow up and maybe he would come to understand, but what about herself? Would she ever be able to forgive herself for this?

God, why was this so difficult? She shouldn’t, she  _ couldn’t _ do this to herself, not after everything she’d been through: all the hallucinations, the therapy, the nightmares, the sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling and listening to the steady beat of Steve’s heart and his soft breathing.

All the same, she wanted to give in, to touch, to feel. She knew this garden kiss would turn into something more, into sex and companionship. The latter she dreaded, but the former… the former she  _ craved _ .

Miranda knew she should back away, get up and take a few steps away from the bench and focus on getting home and then she and Steve could talk and fuck and everything would be as it should. 

But part of her, the part that felt repressed and longing to burst forth, didn’t want to wait. Her own hands weren’t enough and with a curious toddler, she hadn’t wanted to risk getting any toys. This part of her wanted to climb into Loki’s lap and kiss him within an inch of his life.

“Well?” Loki asked.

Miranda met his gaze and knew what she was going to do. There were no one night stands with him.

“No. We had our time,” she said, rising. “I’m not going to do that to myself.” She walked over to a blooming bush and picked the last full blossom before turning back around to face him.

They both watched each other carefully, each unsure of the other now after so long. They used to be able to read each other with a glance, but now Miranda was the stoic one, and Loki the close-guarded romantic.

“Very well. You shall keep the dignity of choice while you are here,” he said.

Miranda huffed but turned her attention to stroking the soft flower petals with the tip of her finger.

*****

Asgard was bigger than Steve expected, to put it mildly. He felt a bit overwhelmed, taking in all the architecture with its high-reaching golden spires and towers. And the Bifrost — it was easily over a mile long, not that they walked it. A man that Sif introduced to them as Fandral greeted them along with Heimdall, and he took them in a flying boat into the city.

He and Bucky were quickly ushered into a wooden building on the edge of the city, which was far less grand than what they had seen when approaching from the Bifrost, but it was still beautiful. Here they were introduced to the remaining members of the Warriors Three.

Once the formalities were taken care of, they set to work on their plan. The Asgardians already had half a plan, but by the end of the night, they had a full one.

*****

“I wanted to show you something before I left,” Loki said, opening the ornately carved door and stepping into the sizable library. “Given how your talents have manifested, there are some tomes here that may be of some use to you.”

“You’re too kind,” Miranda said hesitantly, following him through the shelves. Ben looked around curiously, holding tight to Miranda’s hand.

The library was barely lit, only trickles of sunshine filtering through the high windows. The air was full of dust motes, and the shelves themselves showed little use with piles of dust forming on and around the books, which were heavy enough that some of the shelves sagged. A few titles got Miranda’s eye —  _ The History of the Creation of the Nine Realms _ being one — but she didn’t pause to look. She was far too curious about what Loki wanted to show her.

He stopped once they reached the farthest corner in front of a large gilded book, the only one, it seemed, in the library that wasn’t coated in dust. There was no title on its cover, and with the level of detail in the decoration, Miranda suspected that was because it didn’t need one.

She stood next to him, waiting silently as he momentarily traced part of the gilding before opening the massive book and careful turning to the page he wanted. Miranda stared entranced by the glimmering pages, mystified by how the runes seemed to float and images seemed to move, blinking against the golden light that seemed to flow from the book itself.

She felt Ben tug on her hand and she picked him up, resting him on her hip so he could see the beautifully decorated pages as well.

Finally, Loki stopped at a page about halfway through the book, smoothing out the pages. Miranda quickly noted the added notes and changes made by some previous reader, details that edited and added to what was on the page. She knew what the book was before Loki told her.

“Frigga used this book to teach me magic as a child,” he said. “This section is on the mind. Perhaps you will find it instructional.”

She nodded, focusing more on him than on the book for the moment. The soft light cast dramatic shadows across his face. It made him look so much older than when she had seen him last before this, the last time she had been on Asgard.

“I will leave you alone to study,” he said, taking a step away from the book.

“Wait,” she said softly, not turning to follow him. She heard him pause. “What are you preparing for?”

“Thanos grows stronger every day.”

“I know. But this, showing me this book…”

It was silent for a moment before he answered, “If I cannot protect you, it is foolish to not allow you to learn how to protect yourself. And our son.” When she didn’t respond, he left, leaving them alone for the time being.

Miranda set Ben on the stool near the book and began reading the section. If it was something that Frigga had taught Loki, then it was going to be worth her time.

It involved a lot more hand waving than she expected. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ben was beginning to mimic her. That was fine. Standing on the stool, however, was not.

“Careful, Ben. you could fall and get hurt. You need to either sit or get off the stool, okay?”

He nodded and sat back down. “You look like Wanda.”

“I do, don’t I?” Miranda laughed, waving through another pattern. The faint beginnings of a golden network created a pattern as she moved. Within a few repetitions, she had the pattern memorized and the golden traces began to darken and become more visible.

She taught a few of the simpler ones to Ben, ones that if he were able to do them would be harmless. Simple things like helping someone feel a little happier, feel comforted, or remember where they put their keys.

She reserved the more complicated things for herself.

After a while, Ben got restless and slid off the stool. Miranda listened as he wandered around the area near the book, never going far enough that he couldn’t see his mother. It was quiet, just the two of them in the library.

Then the door on the far side of the library opened.

*****

Steve and Bucky had split apart from the others as the group broke into pairs. Moving quickly and quietly through the halls, they realized they didn’t know where to look for the Douglases or even if the two would be in the same place. The first few rooms they tried were empty and more than one provided momentary shelter from the eyes of the staff going about their business.

Towards the end of the hall, there was an ornately carved double door. They opened it to find a large room filled with bookshelves that sagged from the weight of knowledge that they held. Just over the tops of the shelves, Bucky could see a warm golden light coming from one of the corners, and for a moment he thought he saw a shower of golden sparks fly up.

He silently signaled to Steve that they should approach slowly from opposite sides. Steve nodded and headed to the right. Bucky moved left.

Creeping along the outer edge of the library took some time. Both soldiers paused to clear every row of shelves before continuing on to the next. Part of it was habit, perhaps, but all of it was in the interest of survival. No one can sneak up on you if you sneak up on them first.

Bucky reached the far corner, the one filled with golden light, before Steve did. He lowered his weapon at the sight.

In front of a large gold book that glowed on its own stood Andy. He could only see her back and part of her profile, but it didn’t matter. She was focused, her hands flying about and forming a complex web of lines. It burst, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. She growled, her jaw tensing for a moment before she shook her hair out of her eyes and began anew.

Bucky didn’t see the little boy peering around Andy’s legs at him until the boy tugged on her skirt, causing the pale purple fabric to move and catch his attention. Andy looked down at him and turned to look in the direction he was pointing.

Her eyes landed on Bucky, joy quickly replacing worry as she recognized him.

“Is there anyone else in the library?” Bucky asked.

Andy glanced to the side like she was thinking about it. Her gaze grew soft and she turned just in time to see Steve emerge from between the bookshelves. She didn’t hesitate to throw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce hug that sent Steve stumbling. When he regained his balance, Steve barely had time to say her name before she was kissing him. As soon as she was back on her feet, Ben was demanding that Steve pick him up. The kid latched onto Steve’s neck.

Bucky looked at the three of them, watching how both adults held back tears of joy and Ben kept trying to get Steve’s attention, and he saw how they had become a family unit.

“We should get going,” Steve said after a moment, his Captain America mask sliding over his expression once more. He shifted Ben in his arms when it was clear the kid didn’t want to let go.

“Right.” Miranda nodded. “Follow me.” She pushed past Bucky, taking his hand and smiling at him. He wondered what he did to deserve that smile.

The four of them moved quickly through the building, Miranda in the lead. She reached out to Sif and the Warriors Three once Bucky said that they were there as well, arranging for them to meet up a few dozen yards up the road.

Just as they were rounding the front of the building, staying close to the tree line, they noticed one of the front doors open. Loki stood tall on the steps, looking directly at them. Miranda stopped.

“Andy!” Bucky called after her.

She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Steve, make sure you’ve got a hold on Ben,” she instructed before meeting Loki halfway.

Bucky couldn’t hear their conversation, but he could tell that it wasn’t confrontational. Andy’s posture was more relaxed than defensive. She sighed, then nodded, accepting something from Loki. Before she could turn away, Loki gently took her hand, giving her opportunity to pull it back, but she didn’t. He kissed her hand, then let her go.

She turned, coming back to them. She unwrapped the cord from around the small amulet, draping it around Ben’s neck before kissing his forehead.

“It’s for protection from harm,” she said, answering Bucky and Steve’s question before they could ask it. “He cares about him, too.” She didn’t say anything else before she started striding up the road towards their meeting place.


	9. Now let us sport us while we may

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Let's make 2018 a good one, yeah?

Every homecoming was different from each other. Coming home after a two-week vacation was very different from coming home after being kidnapped, for example. Miranda could feel how different she was now, how she stood out from her surroundings.

The Asgardian dress she was wearing had nothing to do with it.

“I’m gonna go change,” she said to the room at large. Her parents and Nat were playing with Ben, who seemed at ease to be among trusted friends and family again. Steve and Bucky had been staying near her and trying to act like they weren’t hovering protectively. She knew they were hesitant about the protection amulet Loki had given her for Ben.

They were right to be — that amulet had come at a price. No one that helped them leave Asgard remembered doing so, nor do they remember them ever being there in the first place.

“Momma, I wanna change, too,” Ben said, stumbling over Nat’s leg as he hurried to go with her.

“Okay, kid, let’s go,” she said, picking him up when he made grabby hands. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Miranda decided to help Ben first and it was harder than it should have been to get him to keep his clothes on till they picked out new ones (which ended up being a Black Widow t-shirt and Captain America pajama pants). Armed with a blanket and his vintage-style “Bucky Bear,” Ben waited on Miranda’s bed while she changed into jeans and a t-shirt of Steve’s. She unbraided her hair and brushed it before throwing it up in a ponytail.

“Momma,” Ben said, picking at a loose thread in his blanket, “what’s gonna happen now?”

She sighed and moved to sit next to him on the bed. “I’m not really sure, baby. We have to let people know that we’re back and that we’re safe… but I don’t know what will happen after that. But we’re safe here, okay?”

“I don’t feel safe.” He frowned and squeezed his bear tighter.

“Come ‘ere,” Miranda coaxed, pulling him into her lap. “What would help you make you feel safer? Do you want to stay in my room tonight, or do you want to spend the night at the Avengers Complex?”

“I don’t know,” he whined, burying his face in her neck.

Miranda thought hard for a while, holding Ben tightly and absently rocking a little. “I think I have an idea for what might help us both, but I’ll have to talk to your grandparents first. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Now let’s go back downstairs by everyone and watch a movie or something, okay? I’ll see about ordering pizza for dinner,” she said.

*****

Three hours later, Ben was curled up in one of the ends of the couch under his blanket as  _ The Prince of Egypt _ played softly on the tv. Miranda quietly began gathering the mostly empty pizza boxes to take them to the garbage bin in the garage.

“I’ve got it, Mom, don’t worry,” Miranda said when she moved to help. “I’d like to do this myself.”

Miranda quickly left and took the boxes out, skillfully balancing the boxes in one hand to open the door and the bin’s lid. As it slammed shut, Miranda felt the first prickles of tears form in her eyes. She took a deep breath and pinched her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.

When she came back inside, she went to the kitchen. She took pity on her dad, who was struggling to understand her coffeemaker and started a new pot for him.

“Sweetheart, I think we both know you’re not holding up very well,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” she admitted. “But it’s only been a few hours.”

“You should take time off.”

She nodded. “I plan on it. Do you think… Would it be alright if Ben and I stayed with you and Mom for a few weeks? Just for the holidays. And after everything is sorted with Washington.”

“Sure. We haven’t really touched your room, despite everything. Or maybe because of it. I think we’ve still got that folding cot somewhere, too.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice tight and watery.

“Come here, sweetheart,” her dad said, pulling her into a tight hug. He rubbed her back as she clung tightly to him, trying very, very hard not to sob.

*****

The next morning, Miranda went upstate to the Avengers Compound, leaving Ben with her parents and Steve. If she was going to make anywhere the base of operations for all the bureaucratic bullshit she now had to deal with, it was going to be there. Her house was still a mess from being a base to find  _ her _ so she wasn’t inclined to use it as a place to announce her  _ return _ .

“ _ Welcome back, Ms. Douglas, _ ” FRIDAY greeted.

“Thank you, FRIDAY. Is Tony around?”

“ _ He’s in his workshop. Should I let him know that you are here? _ ”

“No, that’s alright,” Miranda said. She hung her coat and scarf on the stand just inside the door before moving quickly through the halls to Tony’s workshop. She would talk to the other Avengers later, but first, she needed to talk to Tony — he was the only person she trusted to tell her what had happened in Washington while she was away.

Steve was probably right. She should take a day or two before jumping back into Washington politics. But she couldn’t, not when she’d been gone so long and planned on taking an even longer plan of absence as soon as the dust settled from her return.

Miranda calmly entered her password and stepped into the shop. Multiple holo screens were floating above the table that Tony sat at, each with some part of a suit design or dozens of lines of coding. One was a bit farther off from the others and displayed a news show.

“ _ I still find it hard to believe that the White House knew — their response felt uncoordinated and rushed, there was no way that they knew Douglas was a mutant _ ,” said one of the newscasters.

“ _ I agree. Though the Avengers’ theory of her and her son being taken to Asgard also seems far-fetched _ ,” said another. “ _ Especially when you consider this morning’s info leak connecting her to the Hellfire Club, a group of — _ ”

“FRIDAY, mute the news please,” Miranda said.

Tony turned around at the sound of her voice and as he relaxed, she swore it took years off him.

“Nat had called last night, but I almost didn’t believe her.”

“I’ve come back from worse,” Miranda said, pulling a stool over so she could sit next to him. “Red and blue? That’s not really your colors.”

“The suit isn’t for me,” Tony said, minimizing the design windows.

“The kid from Queens, then?”

“Yeah.” Tony paused. “You caught the good news, unfortunately,” he said, gesturing towards the muted news program. “There has been a spike in conspiracy theories about you being Hydra.”

“Great,” Miranda sighed. “Why people think I’m a Nazi, I’ll never understand. Thank you, Tony. I know you’ve probably had to put up with a lot since I disappeared.”

“Ross wasn’t too happy, no. Neither was the President.”

“I’d imagine. Have I been fired yet?”

“They’re still weighing the potential backlash from it,” Tony said. Miranda nodded, chewing on her lip. “Especially since Ross wants to lock you in —” Tony cut himself off. Miranda hugged him from the side but otherwise ignored his distress.

“He won’t get the chance,” Miranda vowed. After a moment, she stood up and offered Tony her hand. “Come on, let’s go have a cup of coffee and catch up and come up with a plan. No one outside of who was at my house last night and you knows that I’m back yet. We have the advantage for now.”

“You have a long press conference ahead of you,” Tony warned, getting up. Miranda laced her arm through his.

“Yeah, but I’ve got you for advice,” she said, smiling.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he said. They both laughed.

*****

The first call that Miranda made that morning was to her uncle, giving him permission to allow SHIELD to know of her return. Then she called the FBI, CIA, and White House in a conference video call to let them know. She could tell that they found it odd how put together she was when she had been missing less than 24 hours prior, but she had gotten ready on autopilot that morning, pulling on business casual and doing a full face of makeup.

After she (finally) ended that call, she pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before looking at the pages of notes she now had. She sighed, not wanting to deal with any of it at all, but this was her life now. She had more calls to make and as many emails to send out, and meetings to arrange and briefings to both attend and plan; all before she could have a formal press conference for her return. SHIELD was going to make a statement that afternoon with White House permission, and in two days she was making an appearance herself. For now, they were buying time by saying she was “taking time to decompress before returning to the public eye.”

“How’d it go?” Tony asked, bringing a fresh pot of coffee over to refill her mug.

“Could have gone worse, so I’ll take it as a success. I just don’t know if I can jump back into this again. I need to be around for Ben,” she said, warming her hands on her mug.

“Well,” Tony said, sitting down next to her, “that’s why you’re taking a long holiday, right?”

“Doesn’t change that I’m fighting to keep my job.”

“Then don’t fight. Step down, retire, whatever you wanna call it.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I have to pretend it is,” he said. “They want me to step down, too.”

“What?” Miranda said, gaping at him.

“Since Steve hesitated to accept the Accords… they want someone else to be running the Avengers.”

“So you step down from Secretary of Defense and become head of the Avengers. They had mentioned a leadership change over in the call, but…” Miranda said, flipping through her notes. “It had just sounded like bull. Something they say is going to happen, but it never actually does.”

“Not this time, unfortunately.”

“We both have a foot in the door right now when it comes to what the Avengers can do under the Accords, and they want to remove that advantage,” Miranda said, hanging her head. “Leave the Avengers at the mercy of the Security Council and the committee in charge of them.”

“Yeah, it’s… not good.”

“There’s more bad news, I take it?”

“Legally, I’m not supposed to tell you yet, but I don’t care anymore,” Tony said, tapping away on his tablet. Then he set it down and slid it in front of her, hitting one final button to create a miniature hologram of a new suit. “They want you on the team, Lady Liberty.”

The suit looked more or less like a combination Nat and Wanda’s outfits, but with copper and seafoam accents and a small crown headband to complete the look. Simplistic, yet fashionable, with obvious calls to the Statue of Liberty herself.

Miranda clenched her jaw. “Fantastic. I’m guessing it’s this or the Raft, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m really looking forward to my holiday.”

*****

“Ben, honey, can you wait here with Grandma and Grandpa while I talk to the reporters?” Miranda asked, crouching to be at eye-level with him. Once he nodded, she kissed his forehead. “Thank you, baby.”

“Ms. Douglas, if I could have a word before you face the press,” asked an agent. Miranda followed her the short distance to give them a little privacy from the others. When she came back, Miranda had a sour look on her face.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Just peachy. You’ll see,” she said, nodding to Happy, who opened the door for her. As she took her position behind the podium, the others crowded around the screen to watch the interview unfold.

She was the picture of calm as she began, thanking everyone for coming and all the positive news she had been updated on and their concern for her and Ben’s well-being.

“Now onto more serious matters,” she said. There were a few chuckles. “I have just been informed of the true purpose of this meeting a few moments ago: I am to announce my retirement as the ambassador to the United Nations and my subsequent induction into the Avengers.” She paused, allowing that to settle over the room.

“I am not doing that today — though that is not to say that I never will,” she continued. “With the Sokovia Accords being a fledgling piece of legislation, I intend to see them through these first few rocky months as they become law across the globe with the intent of ensuring just and fair enforcement of them everywhere that I can. These laws are meant to protect, not persecute, those of us who are somehow more than human, whether we be mutant, enhanced, or Inhuman.

“That being said, my son and I need time to recover from the past few weeks. I have arranged that I will take an extended holiday to allow my son and myself ample time to recover. For my son’s sake, I ask that you give us privacy at this time.

“I have every intention of returning in the new year and finishing what I have started with the Accords. We shall see what is to become of both them and myself, as a new path is forged.” She then opened the floor to questions, answering only a select few.

“Your honor, how will your mutant and enhanced dual status affect your implementation of the Accords, since you are subject to them?” asked a reporter.

“I will abide by the Accords to the best of my ability, same as anyone else that is subject to them,” she said. “As an enforcer, I hope that my subjugation to them will mean that I can ensure fair enforcement. No one is above the law, there are merely creators of it.” She then pointed to another reporter. She was the picture of calm.

“Your honor, do you believe that your abilities are what has allowed you to maintain your position despite having no prior experience?”

“I have no doubt that my abilities have aided in my success, but going back to school to finish my degree in history and continuing on for a masters in political science helped infinitely more,” Miranda said, reminding everyone that she had accomplished that much in the midst of everything, somehow.

“So you would say that your abilities have had minimal impact on your career thus far?” the same reporter said.

“They have helped and impeded me about as much as being pansexual has.” Miranda paused, taking a moment to process what she had just done. Her brain was full of curse words for a split second before she regained a proper vocabulary. “That is to say, of course, that my abilities have done little more than allowing me to see things from multiple perspectives.”

After the flurry of note-taking stopped, there was an eruption of question. Miranda had barely had time to finish her sentence before it had started. She took a deep breath, then quickly but calmly excused herself, letting the gentleman from PR take over again.

As soon as she was behind the door again, away from the press, she went to Ben and scooped him up, holding him close. His arms immediately wrapped tight around her neck.

“That’s one way to come out,” Tony said. He, much like everyone besides Miranda’s parents and Steve, was caught off guard by her… announcement.

“Not how I planned to do it,” Miranda said tersely. “Mostly because I never planned on it.”

“Even more people are going to look up to you.”

“And more are going to want me dead,” she snapped. She took a breath. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I touched a nerve, I see.”

“I have my reasons for wanting to stay closeted,” she said.

“Knowing you, they’re good ones.”

It was then that Steve came over. “Andy, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Steve. Really,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder as she pressed past. “I just need some space.” She hurried out of the room, holding onto Ben like he was a lifeline.

*****

The sun had been down for hours by the time Miranda got home. Ben had fallen asleep in the car, so she carried him inside and up to his room. She only bothered to take off his coat and shoes before tucking him in.

Once back downstairs, she settled on one of the stools in her kitchen. Natasha was typing something on her phone, glancing up for half a second when Miranda entered the room. It was getting late and quite frankly, Miranda wasn’t in a hurry to be sending Nat on her way anyway.

Miranda sighed, shaking her head. “I need a drink. No, I need to get  _ drunk _ . And that’s not happening anytime soon,” she said a bit mournfully.

“Oh, honey,” Natasha said. “You just haven’t tried hard enough,” she continued, pulling out two large bottles of vodka. She put them down with a  _ thunk _ on the counter. Miranda blinked slowly several times, staring at the bottles.

“Where were you keeping that?”

“In my bag,” Natasha said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She slid one bottle across the counter to Miranda before sliding off her stool and going to the cabinet for shot glasses.

“Wait, are you saying—”

“That you probably need to drink that whole bottle to get drunk, going past the point that would give any normal person alcohol poisoning?”

“Yes.”

“You might not need the bottle. Depends on what your tolerance was before the serum,” Natasha said, pouring two shots.

“I’m not drinking that much vodka as just shots,” Miranda said.

“I didn’t expect you to. I do expect, however, that you have at least one pure shot before you violate it by mixing it with soda or something.”

“Hey, vodka in pop is good, okay?”

“You’re still violating it,” Natasha said, handing Miranda one of the shot glasses. “But, since you haven’t gotten drunk in years, I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“And I am humbled by the exception,” Miranda said, bowing her head. They raised the shots as a toast and tossed them back.

*****

They both had drunk about half of their respective bottles when they were tittering on the edge of drunkenness. Miranda melted into the back of the couch and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She felt pleasantly tingly and relaxed.

“Are you sleeping already?” Natasha asked, a slight Russian accent forming at the edge of her words. It was getting stronger the drunker she got.

“No,” Miranda said, humming. “Just relaxing.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Miranda agreed, sitting up and taking another swig from her cup of vodka and root beer. “How’d you figure this out? That’d it take a bottle of 40 proof to get drunk.”

“I wanted to forget something. And I wondered the serum could prevent alcohol poisoning. Turns out it does,” Natasha explained, staring into her shot glass before knocking it back.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe someday,” Natasha said, giving Miranda a tight smile. Miranda took the shot out of Nat’s hand and put it on the table so she could properly hug her. “You’re emotional.”

“You’re lucky she’s not flirting with you,” Bucky said, standing in the hall with Steve. They looked like they had just gotten back and still had their coats on. Miranda couldn’t remember what had held them up at the Compound. (Her parents, however, had gone to spend a night or two with Phil. She remembered that much.)

“You ruined my master plan, Barnes!” Miranda groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

“Are you drunk?” Steve asked. Miranda popped back up to look over the back of the couch.

“Woah, too fast,” she muttered. “Not quite. But I’m getting there!”

“I’m putting water and aspirin by your bed,” Steve said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up. 

“Hmm, maybe you should wait for me there,” Miranda mused, looking up and down his frame. Bucky laughed as Steve started turning red. He clapped him on the shoulder as they headed upstairs.

“So, what’s Steve like?” Natasha asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“That’s your segway into talking about my sex life?”

“Shush, what’s he like?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“We never — you know,” Miranda said, gesturing aimlessly.

“You never fucked Steve?”

“Not so loud! And no. We never… got around to it?” Miranda said. Nat started laughing. “Hey, in our defense, we weren’t a thing till July and I had my job to do and Steve lives —”

“Here, mostly. Which is why we all assumed you two were fucking. Wanda thought you were ages ago since you share the same bed all time.”

“Oh dear god,” Miranda said. “We have nightmares and cuddling helps!”

“Sex helps, too.”

“Fuck off.”

“If that an offer?” Natasha asked, smirking. “But seriously, you and Steve haven’t had sex?”

“Did you see his face just a minute ago? Did that look like the face of a man who has had sex?”

“Fair point. I’m not trying to push you, I’m just genuinely curious as to why you haven’t banged him already,” Natasha said, shrugging. Miranda took a big gulp from her cup.

“We just… haven’t.”

“But you want to?”

“Where is this going?”

“Well, if you’re a flirt when you’re drunk…” Natasha drawled seductively.

“I’d have to see if Steve’s okay with it first,” Miranda shot back, half wondering if they’d crossed the line from teasing-flirting to actual flirting.

“Ask me what?” Steve said, leaning into the room. He clearly only caught the last part.

“Ah, Steve!” Natasha said. “Is it okay if I sleep with your girlfriend?” Miranda choked on her drink.

“Um,” Steve said, stepping into the room more, “what?”

“She’s pretty.”

“I’m aware,” he said slowly like he was wondering what the catch was. Miranda giggled at his scrunched up confused face — it was like looking at a bald eagle straight on.

“And I want to flirt with her, which could lead somewhere.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Completely,” Natasha replied. Steve looked to Miranda for help.

“We won’t if it makes you uncomfortable, Steve,” Miranda said. After a beat, she added, “Unless you wanted to watch?”

“Or join,” Natasha added.

Miranda shrugged. “Or join.”

“Yeah, no, I’m cutting you off,” Steve said, looking slightly mortified. He rounded the couch and grabbed the vodka bottles, screwing the lids on and taking them out of the room.

“You’re no fun, Rogers!” Natasha called after him. He came back a moment later with two glasses of water.

“Drink up,” he instructed. Both women pouted but did anyway. “Andy, I assume it’s not a problem if Nat spends the night?” Miranda shook her head. “Then I’ll open one of the guest rooms. One of the ones  _ not _ by our room,” he added pointedly. Natasha pouted harder.

“Aw, you’re so cute!” Miranda cooed. “Steve, can I please kiss her?”

“No, you’re going to bed, come on,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

“Guess I’ll just kiss you then,” Miranda said, trying to balance on her tiptoes to do so. Steve sighed and took pity on her, leaning down to kiss her chastely. Miranda  _ whined _ when he pulled back.

“Am I late to the party?” Bucky asked.

“No,” Steve said. “I’m cutting them off.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want Nat to fuck me,” Miranda said bluntly. Bucky took a half step back.

“What?”

“You know she flirts when she’s drunk,” Steve said.

“I’m pan, Bucky, I love all the people!” Miranda said.

“Okay, yeah, I see now,” Bucky said, more to himself than anyone else.

“Both of you are so old-fashioned,” Natasha grumbled, standing up herself.

“Or, you know, neither of you can consent when you’re drunk,” Steve said, opting to just carry Miranda since she was clinging to him anyway. It was kind of adorable, and would be more if he didn’t suspect — how was he kidding, he  _ knew _ — she had gotten drunk to cope with the stress.

“I said that once,” Miranda mumbled, frowning as she tried to remember when. She guessed she had at some event for Polaris, probably.

“Buck, show Nat to a guest room, please,” Steve said as he passed by. Miranda locked eyes with Bucky and held his gaze until they rounded the corner. Then they heard:

“Would you let Bucky fuck me?”

“Andy!” 

Bucky and Natasha both started laughing.

“Well, are you gonna?” Miranda challenged. The pair started laughing harder; and harder still when they never heard Steve’s reply.

“Come on,” Bucky said, wiping away laughter tears, “let’s get you to bed.” Natasha nodded and followed him down the hall to one of the guest rooms.

*****

“Andy, come on, you should get some sleep,” Steve said as he unwound her arms from around his neck.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she said, kissing his neck before trying to pull him down for a proper kiss.

“You need to. You have a lot to do before you leave.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do any of that. I want to do  _ you _ . Do you wanna do me, too?” she asked, batting her eyelashes as she took a step back so he could see her nimble fingers unbutton her blouse.

“Andy, you’re drunk. I’m not having sex with you while you’re drunk. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I wouldn’t regret it,” she argued. She shook a loose hair out of her face and raised her chin in defiance.

One of the things he loved about her was how she knew what she wanted and went for it. But tonight? Tonight it was a little worrying — but mostly  _ annoying _ . She needed to sleep, hell, they both did; it was nearly midnight. He had to come up with something to pacify her (and himself, quite frankly).

Steve sighed. “Tell you what, tomorrow night, when you’re sober, we can talk more about this.”

“Oh, whoever said we’d be talking?” she said, looking up at him with a seductive gleam in her eye.

“Tomorrow,” Steve said firmly. This woman would be the death of him, he knew, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of her. He would never and after what she’s been through he was going to put his foot down about it harder than he would otherwise.

Miranda rolled her eyes but ducked into her closet to change anyway. Steve was relieved when she came out in fluffy pajama pants and a faded t-shirt. While she was occupied with undoing her hair, he changed himself.

There was more cursing than normal as he helped her find all the bobby pins in her hair. (They were pesky little buggers and Steve swore that they multiplied somehow.) When they finally were all out of her hair — which fluffed out adorably in the process — they climbed into bed.

If Miranda was more cuddly than usual, Steve didn’t notice. She had been an octopus since she got back anyway.

*****

“You know, the only bad part about spending the day watching movies and doing nothing is that now I’m not tired,” Miranda said as she and Steve moved about their room to get ready for bed.

Steve chuckled. “Neither am I. Though, you're worse off since you fell asleep halfway through  _ Snow White _ .”

“Oh, shush.” She shoved his shoulder back as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I have an idea of what would tire us out though,” she said.

“And what would that be?” Steve said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Remember your offer last night? I’m sober now.”

“So you are.”

“So, maybe we can tire ourselves out a little bit,” Miranda said, her voice getting sweeter and sultrier with every word. “How does that sound?” she whispered as she pulled him into a kiss.

“It sounds like a plan.”

“A damn good one, too.”

“A fucking good one,” Steve said. They both failed to not laugh.

“How about we stop fucking around and get to fucking?” Miranda said.

“I like that idea,” Steve said, pulling her into a kiss, one that she eagerly melted into.

Clothes came off layer by layer as the distance between their skin became too far to stand. Miranda’s sweatshirt and t-shirt were gone in one smooth motion, followed by Steve’s own shirt. Pants were left on the floor as they moved to the bed, Miranda lying on top of Steve. His hands rested on her hips as they kept kissing, but he let her control it all.

Steve let Miranda control the pace, wanting nothing more than to make her feel good and safe. Keeping those goals in mind was the only thing that stopped him from moving too fast and diving straight into the deep end.

Miranda sat up, bracing herself on his chest and rolled her hips. Even through his boxers, the movement elicited a groan from Steve. Miranda had a devious grin on her face at that, and Steve knew he was in for a wild ride.

*****

Miranda curled up next to Steve under the covers after they had gotten as cleaned up as they could with fuzzy brains and jelly limbs.

“Thank you for making me wait 'til I was sober,” she said. “I’ll be able to remember our first time now.”

“That’s not why I made you wait.”

“I know, but it’s nice.” She shifted, pressing closer to his chest. “Firsts are important, and you should remember them.”

“Then I’m glad my first was with you,” Steve said, kissing the top of her forehead.

“Wait, your  _ first _ ? Steve, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“I thought you believed virginity was a social construct.”

“I do, but — firsts and all,” Miranda said. “Damn, I really thought that you had already.”

“Nope.”

“Well, it sure didn’t show,” she mumbled, settling back down. “Fuckin’ perfect human bullshit.”

“I take it your first time was —”

“A laughable shitshow? Kinda. It was romantic though, in a way. I went out with this one girl in high school, she was a year older than me, and one night while we were stargazing in the bed of my truck, one thing led to another and… first time. I had no clue what I was doing, but she was a good teacher,” Miranda said with an eyebrow wiggle.

“I can tell,” Steve said, chuckling. He felt warm and happy for the first time in months (years?).

They fell silent after that, listening to each other’s breathing and enjoying the closeness. Miranda fell asleep before Steve did, and he only noticed because the finger that had been tracing over the small bumps left from his surgery to remove the bullet stilled and remained over his heart.


	10. yet we will make him run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been like 2 1/2 months but like... this is almost 12k so like...
> 
> ANYWAY, enjoy the crap outta this bc my take on Infinity War will be coming soon, with significantly lower levels of fluff and a chance of scattered tears. (Just like the movie will be, lol.)

Bucky found Andy in her office, eyes flicking back and forth across the screen as she read something before she looked down to ruffle through some papers on her desk.

“Did you need something?” she asked distractedly, glancing up at him for a moment. She gestured to the extra chair she had in there and continued organizing papers, sifting through them for something.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Bucky said, leaning on the edge of her desk instead, facing her. He turned the Book over in his hands. When he looked at Andy again, her full attention was on him. “I want you to read this,” he said, handing her the Book.

“Are you sure you don’t want to destroy it?” she asked, eyes tracing over the black star pressed into the red leather, hesitantly taking it into her hands.

It was almost the opposite of when she had given it to him, full of confidence and a surety that he wanted it in his possession. She had given him the one thing that could override his self-control. And now he was giving it to her.

“No. But I know I want you to read it,” Bucky said. 

She opened the Book, flipping through a few pages. “You know my Russian isn’t very good.”

“Your brain is also a universal translator,” Bucky said, tapping her temple. 

She rolled her eyes fondly before looking at him very seriously. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I need someone to know.”

“What happened to you?”

“How to control me, the Soldier; however you want to quantify it.”

“Bucky, what you’re asking,” Andy said slowly, “is —”

“I know. But I trust you to make the right call.”

She stared at the Book in her hands. “Because Steve wouldn’t make the hard call.” It wasn’t a question, they both knew the answer was right there.

Steve couldn’t make a hard call when it came to Bucky. They had seen that much in Bucharest a few short months ago and things could have been a lot worse if Andy hadn’t been in Berlin.

Who knows what could have happened if she hadn’t stopped Zemo.

“I’ll read it. I promise,” she said, looking him in the eye. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Bucky nodded, squeezing back.

“I’ll let you get back to… whatever I interrupted,” Bucky said, pushing up from the desk.

Andy laughed. “You are a welcome distraction from the chaos of me leaving for six weeks after disappearing for three. A  _ very  _ welcome distraction,” she added, wincing when she saw three emails had come in while they were talking.

“I’ll have to bug you more often,” Bucky teased as he left. Her laughter followed him out into the hall, and the echo stayed with him even longer.

*****

Tony had insisted on flying them out to Michigan. Miranda’s parents called the O'Shaughnessy's, their neighbors, to bring their car out to the landing site since no airport even remotely nearby was big enough to land the Quinjet safely.

“Tony, we’ll be fine,” Miranda said, slipping into the co-pilot seat on the descent.

“Maybe I just wanted to fly the Quinjet.”

“So why is Friday flying?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Just be careful.”

“I’m staying with two former SHIELD agents in a tiny Midwestern town. We’ll be fine.”

“While you’re gone, I’m upgrading your personal security.”

“If it calms your nerves,” she said, patting his shoulder.

The Quinjet jolted as they landed. Miranda got up and helped Ben find all his toys and shove them back into his backpack so that they could disembark after saying their goodbyes.

*****

It was only November but the air already had a winter’s bite to it. Miranda shivered as she zipped her coat up more before helping Ben out of the car. Her dad grabbed the larger of the two suitcases she had packed, her mother taking theirs, which left her second suitcase for her to take into the house. Which she would, in time. Right now she was taking it all in.

After, what, eight years? she expected her childhood home to look different. It did, in that way that any familiar place does when you haven’t been there in years — but not much beyond that. The neighborhood, too, seemed to be unchanged by everything that had happened.

Miranda began to realize that it was entirely possible that she was the one that changed — or at least, changed the most. Of course, she had changed. She was, after all, something less or more human than she had been last time she’d stood in this driveway, looking back towards the house for one last glance before she drove away headed towards her college, her future that ended up getting her closer to Norse mythology than she could have ever thought possible.

She pulled the suitcase out of the trunk and slammed it closed. She called Ben back from exploring the yard and he walked up to the house with her, his  _ Little Mermaid _ backpack bouncing and jiggling with every excited step.

He stopped abruptly at the base of the steps to the deck and turned around to look at her very intently.

“Something wrong, kiddo?” she asked.

“No,” he said. He reached out to grab her hand. “We’re gonna be okay here, Momma.”

“That’s why we’re here,” she said. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”

“Not really. But okay.”

Ben let go of her hand and bounded up the steps ahead of her. Miranda moved slowly, hindered by the suitcase. Ben didn’t seem to care though, content to stare up at the empty grey sky. Miranda knew that the tallest building in town was still less than ten stories, which for Ben was still a small building. The skyline wasn’t full here.

She’d have to take him stargazing.

Her dad had already hauled the suitcase up to her room, so she went ahead and hauled up the one she was carrying. Her mom took Ben into the living room to entertain him while Miranda unpacked their stuff.

Standing in the doorway, she took in her old room. The posters that she had rolled up and shoved in tubes leaned against each other in one corner. Her electric blue trash bin sat next to her desk, just off to the side so she could drop things into it when she was working there.

She lifted the suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it, ready to unpack, when she looked back at her desk. Standing in front of it, she lifted up the face-down picture frame and placed it back on its nail above the desk. It didn’t hurt to see pictures of Raoul anymore, so there was no point in hiding it.

She felt something brush against her cheek and she smiled. “Hey, Raoul,” she whispered.

Oddly comforted by this, she set about unpacking. The closet door still stuck and the third drawer in the dresser didn’t quite close all the way, but it was nice to be surrounded by imperfect things.

Nearly two hours later, she went back downstairs. Her mom was in the kitchen finishing up dinner, and Ben was helping her dad set the table.

“Momma!” Ben said excitedly when he saw her. “Chicken!” He pointed to the metal rooster wall art on the opposite side of the room.

“It sure is,” she said, smiling. That thing had been there since her mom bought it at a craft fair. Both Miranda and her brother Levi had been appalled by how country it was, even if it did match the “theme” that their mom wanted for the house. They’d schemed on multiple occasions how to get rid of it, but they never did. In time, it became part of the house and they stopped wanting to be rid of it.

She helped her mom bring the food in from the kitchen and then they sat down to eat. It was nice — wonderfully normal, in fact. Miranda could feel in her heart that coming home had been the right thing to do.

*****

Levi arrived two days later for Thanksgiving. He and his partner were going to be staying in the house for a couple of days surrounding the holiday and Miranda really, really,  _ really _ hoped that Ben would get along with both of them, otherwise this was going to be a long weekend.

Maybe she was projecting since she’d never meet Quinn in person and had only seen pictures of them on her brother’s Facebook, but if Quinn made her brother as happy in real life as he looked in those pictures, there was little doubt that they would get along.

“They’re here!” Ben shouted. He’d been tasked with keeping watch to keep him busy while Miranda and her mom cleaned up from lunch. He came careening into the kitchen, his frisbee-sized plastic shield contrasting with his dinosaur t-shirt and purple leggings. “They’re here!”

“We heard you,” April said gently, drying her hands.

Miranda put the last dish away just as she heard the car doors slam out front. “You ready to meet your uncle?”

“The other one has purple hair,” Ben whispered like it was a secret.

_ It’s purple? _ Miranda thought, trying to remember what color she’d last seen on Facebook. It didn’t really matter, though. She let Ben pull her by the hand to the front door and out onto the deck even though they were both stocking-foot.

“Andy?” Levi said incredulously, carrying his duffle up the steps. “Damn, Skype pixelates you to all hell,” he said, dropping his bag to hug her.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she said, squeezing him. As they parted, she said, “This is Ben.”

“Hey, Ben,” Levi said, bending down to look him in the eye. “I’m your Uncle Levi.”   
“Hi,” Ben said, sticking out his hand, which Levi shook. Then, turning to Quinn, “Why’s your hair purple?”

Quinn laughed. “I wanted it to be, so I dyed it purple.” Then they properly introduced themself.

 

By dinner, it was apparent that Ben had taken a shining to Quinn. He’d taken the family portrait he’d drawn off the fridge and added both Levi and Quinn to the page, squishing them together between Steve and Miranda’s parents. Quinn was just a little bigger. He stuck it back up on the fridge before anyone had really noticed.

Miranda and Levi spent the afternoon catching up since their Skype calls had mostly ended in frustration or with one of them having to rush off to do something. They included Quinn when they could since Ben kept pulling them away to show them things or to play Legos or something. So Miranda didn’t really get a chance to talk to Quinn before dinner.

“Ben is wicked smart for his age,” Quinn said. “Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was into tech.”

“Oh, he is,” Miranda said, “though I’m not sure how much is him and how much is from Tony.”   
“I’m building a robot at home!” Ben piped up. “It just walks but that’s because Uncle Tony said no laser eyes.”

“And I am thankful he did,” Miranda said. “Levi’s been buzzing about something all afternoon, but he wouldn’t say what no matter how much I pried. Any ideas?”

“Oh, yeah,” Quinn said, blushing. “Babe,” they said, nudging Levi. “Are we gonna tell them now?”

“Huh? Oh, OH, yeah, now works.”

Miranda exchanged a glance with her parents as Levi and Quinn interlaced their fingers. She had a feeling they all knew what they were going to say.

“So, Quinn and I are —”

“Are you getting married?” Ben interrupted. The rest of the table burst into laughter, Levi and Quinn included.

“Yeah, Ben, that’s what we’re announcing,” Levi said when he caught his breath. Congratulations were given to the couple and Quinn showed off the simple engraved silver band on their hand — one everyone had assumed was just a ring and nothing more. The tiny leaves and flowers were stunning.

After dinner, April shooed Miranda off so she could chat with Quinn. “I’ve met them before, you should get to know your sibling-in-law.”

Miranda acquiesced and found Quinn on the couch in the living room, feet tucked up underneath themself to avoid getting bumped into by Levi or Ben, who were play-wrestling. She sat down next to them, crossing her own legs to protect her feet.

“Does Levi know that Ben has training?” Miranda stage-whispered to Quinn.

“I don’t think so,” they said back. “Though it would explain why he’s losing.”

They both laughed. Conversation flowed easily from there. Quinn worked in forensics, specializing in handwriting analysis, and they’d meet Levi when he brought down evidence for a case. They’d been dating for the better part of three years now, and Quinn had never messaged Miranda on Facebook despite having friended her because they were a little intimidated by her reputation. And by Natasha, who was tagged in a lot of pictures on Miranda’s page.

“I swear I’m not that intimidating, and neither is Nat,” Miranda said.

“I guessed as much when I saw you were wearing Nyan cat socks.”

“Fun fact about these socks: Nat got them for me.”

“No,” Quinn said, absolutely gobsmacked.

Miranda laughed. “She’s got a sense of humor beneath all that murderous exterior.”

Miranda then told Quinn about some of the antics that she’d gotten into with the Avengers over the last few years, slowly realizing that these stories were making them seem more real to Quinn and less like distant characters on a news report. So she kept picking the ones that made them seem the most human: Clint’s tendency to say “Aw, X, no” about nearly anything; the coffee wars between Tony and Clint, who both drank more coffee than was strictly healthy at times; about how Steve would play with Ben and die over-dramatic deaths; or how Nat secretly liked rom coms but she’d never admit it out loud; about how the Maximoff twins were inseparable until it came to playing Monopoly or Uno; and how her own love of silly socks had turned into a team-wide silly sock competition that Nat won.

Then Quinn told her stories about how their and Levi’s travels. They laughed about the time that Levi had nearly gotten them horribly lost in San Francisco, about their unspoken competition with Levi to see who could do more pushups, about how they had made a poor wine choice on their first date. (“Never am I getting a moscato again. That bottle ruined them all. God, it was awful — I can still taste if I think about it too long!”) Quinn talked about how they had discovered that Levi was allergic to pet dander when they had gone to a PetSmart to look at the adoptable pets and that they’d nearly adopted a hypoallergenic dog before deciding that their work schedules were too hectic and it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.

“It’s the biggest downside to working in the FBI,” Quinn said. “For me, anyway. But, since I got to meet Levi, I don’t regret it at all,” they said, eyes getting soft and smiling.

“Momma,” Ben said, getting Miranda’s attention. “‘M tired.”

“Okay, bud, let’s get you ready for bed then,” Miranda said. She excused herself and picked Ben up, carrying him upstairs. He nearly fell asleep on the way up and she had to shake him gently to rouse him.

“Momma? Are Uncle Tony and Aunt Pepper gonna get married?” he asked as she pulled out a pair of PJs for him.

“I’m sure they will when they’re ready.”

“But she has his ring.”

“Mhm. And that means they will, just not yet. The ring is a promise,” she said as she helped him with his shirt.

“Okay,” he said. He changed his pants, looking pensive, but he didn’t say anything else until Miranda was tucking the blankets around him. “Will Dad give you a promise?”

Miranda opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What happens if he doesn’t?”

“Not much,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We’d just keep dating unless we decide we don’t want to anymore.”

“If Dad doesn’t give you a promise, can you give him one?”

“Why do you ask?”

He was silent for a minute, playing with his hands, before he said, very quietly, “Because Loki wanted to give you a promise and I don’t want him to.”

Miranda bit her lip. Her heart ached for Ben — he was  _ four _ for crying out loud and already his life was more complicated than it should ever have to be and he was so smart that he was aware of things he couldn’t quite make sense of or articulate because he didn’t have the words yet. Hell, sometimes Miranda felt like she didn’t have the words.

She brushed the hair back from his face. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, and then we can cuddle, okay?” she asked. He nodded and she kissed his forehead before getting up.

She bumped into Levi in the hallway.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?”

“I’ll be okay; I’ve survived worse. I’m more worried about Ben,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her bedroom door. She started tearing up. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, And. You have the right to cry, just don’t make me cry,” Levi joked.

She chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

“Come ‘ere,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug. He held on until she began to move away. “I know we don’t get to talk a lot, and Mom and Dad told me about your… heritage, but Andy, I’m not gonna stop being your brother and I’m here for you. If you want, I’ll quit the FBI to join your security team.”

“You’d hate New York,” she protested. “And you just said a week ago you were in line for a promotion.”

“And protecting an ambassador and beloved American icon would be a bigger promotion than that would be. Andy, think about it at least. I’ve already asked Quinn if they’re okay with moving to New York, and they are.”

“Thanks, Levi. I will, and I’ll let you know,” she said, pulling him into a brief hug. “And before you really set your heart on this, you might want to talk to my existing team. And Tony.”

“First thing, ma’am,” he said, giving her a mock salute before continuing down the hall to his room.

Miranda shook her head and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she got back to her room, Ben was nearly asleep, barely stirring when the door opened. She quickly changed and slid under the covers, curling protectively around him.

*****

Once everything was either cooking or being kept warm and the only thing left to do was wait, Miranda gave in to Ben’s pleading and video-called the Avengers. She leaned against the wall by her bed, Ben between her legs and making silly faces while they waited for it to connect. The laptop was balanced across both their legs; Miranda readjusted the screen to get more of Ben and less of the wall above her head.

“Dad!” Ben cried when the video connected. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Ben,” Steve said, laughing slightly.

“How’s Papa?”

Both adults’ brows furrowed.  _ Papa? _ Miranda thought.  _ My dad’s downstairs. _ Not that Ben had called him Papa before, but the kid was always full of surprises.

“Uh, he’s fine,” Steve said, very unsure of what to say.

“Nuh-uh,” Ben argued. “If he said so, he’s lying.”

“Steve, who’re you talking to?” Bucky asked from somewhere offscreen.

“Andy and Ben. I told you she texted me.”

“Right,” he said, moving inframe and waving. “Hey.”

Miranda’s reply was cut off by Ben asking: “Papa, how are you?”

Bucky blinked. “I’m doing okay, kid,” he said after a beat. “How’s Michigan?”

“Cold,” Ben said, delighted. “Momma says there’s gonna be snow soon and then we can go sledding and build a snowman.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Bucky said in that way adults do when they aren’t as excited about something as a kid is but they don’t want the kid to know.

“Mhm,” Ben hummed, nodding excitedly. “It’ll be just like Frosty!”

Wanda and Nat wandered through shortly after that, the conversation flowing and changing depending on who walked in and who lingered, but most of it was Ben talking excitedly about the cold and the snow, and Christmas.

As they said goodbye so they could get ready for dinner, Ben blew big kisses at the screen. Once Miranda closed the laptop and moved it aside, Ben turned around and snuggled up closer to Miranda for a moment before scooting off the bed.

“Ben,” Miranda said, “Benjamin,” when he didn’t stop. He slowly turned around to look at her. “Who told you to call Uncle Bucky ‘Papa’? Was it Aunt Nat?”

“Nobody.”

Miranda took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and then ran out of the room. Miranda sat on the bed awhile longer.

She believed him that no one told him to. So this wasn’t like when Sam taught him to call Steve ‘Dad.’ No, this was Ben… extrapolating? Since Bucky had been quickly graffed into their family, perhaps this was Ben’s way of understanding their relationship. Yes, of course that was it. Ben’s four and he’s navigating the world in the way he understands it to work. So that made Bucky a second dad in his eyes.

Miranda sighed. _ Well, it doesn’t seem to have bothered Bucky, at any rate _ , she thought, getting up and heading downstairs to get ready for dinner.

 

The table was laden with food: biscuits, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, gravy; and the crowning glory, a ten-pound turkey, made just the way her dad had always made it.

It was simple, it was cozy, it was familiar. It was everything Miranda needed to piece herself back together again.

She only hoped it would help Ben just as much.

*****

The Friday the week after Thanksgiving, Miranda’s parents shooed her out of the house, insisting she go to Happy Hour at one of the local bars. Lots of people from around town were regulars, many of whom already knew her personally and had been asking about her.

“Go, have fun, talk to all the folks who have been pestering your mother about you,” her dad said. “Ben will be safe with us.”

“I know, it’s just after all that’s happened, I don’t want to leave him alone if I don’t have to. I don’t need to go to the bar.”

“It’s better to start now than be bombarded at the Christmas pageant by all the church ladies.”

Miranda winced. They’d ask her which parish she went to in New York and what the pastor was like; and she didn’t have the heart to tell them that she’d tried a few with Steve and none had panned out — she’d taken the hint when the sermon during their second or third visit was about Jezebel or the whore of Babylon. Disheartened and ashamed, she’d given up after the fourth church and never had the time or mental fortitude to try again. She hadn’t even had the courage to revisit her old parish in town, though that was compounded by the fact that all the church ladies were asking about her.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Just for a few hours, though, and I’m telling Ben before I go,” she insisted.

Her dad raised his hands in surrender. “Be my guest.”

Miranda went into the dining room and sat next to Ben, who was trying very hard to copy the letters in front of him. His letters were shaky, but he was very determined.

“Ben, sweetheart? I’m going to go out for a couple of hours. I’ll be back before you go to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Promise?” He stuck his pinky finger out.

“Promise,” she said, hooking her pinky with his.

*****

The music was loud, but not enough to be heard from the street outside. It was strange, after all her time in New York, but at the same time pleasant. It was an odd comfort that people were there to talk, not dance and grind. ‘Course, if people wanted to do that, there was a club a short jaunt up the street.

Miranda’s heart was pounding as she grabbed the door handle. She took a deep breath, bracing herself. She felt ridiculous — she was more nervous about going to a bar than holding a press conference. How had this become her life?

Nobody turned to look who opened the door and Miranda wormed her way through the tables and crowds to get next to the bar. She’d decided she’d have two drinks, then leave. That way she could say she’d had a couple of drinks and it wouldn’t be a lie.

“Hey there,” a guy said, leaning on the bar next to her. “You here alone, beautiful?”

Miranda held back an eye roll and tried again to get the bartender’s attention. She had guessed she wasn’t going to be immediately recognizable — a leather jacket and jeans were very different than a blouse and pencil skirt — but she knew she was a “new” face in town. People would put two and two together quick, right?

“Yeah, I’m alone. But I’m not available,” she said, turning her head to look at the guy. He was handsome and about her age. And as familiar as anyone else in town. “Besides, last I heard, Colter, you were engaged to Phoebe Cooke.”

“Now how’d you hear about that?”

“Small town. News travels fast.”

“Apparently not very fast. I didn’t hear about anyone new coming to town, yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am. Still unavailable,” Miranda sing-songed, trying once again to catch the bartender’s eye.

“Yeah, so is he,” said a girl from behind them. Miranda recognized her as Becky Summers, Phoebe’s best friend since they were kids. Becky held up her phone and said “Smile, jackass” before walking away, presumably sending the picture to Phoebe.

“You haven’t changed a bit. I thought you’d left that behind when we graduated, but I was wrong. Guess Phoebe was, too,” Miranda said. Then she was finally able to order a pint of Strongbow.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you better stop acting like you know anything about anyone in this town.”

“I’m not acting,” Miranda said. She thanked the bartender for her pint and took a long draw.

Colter was seething. “Now—”

“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Miranda snapped, turning her head to look him in the eye. “I was born in this town and I lived here until I went to college. So, please, tell me how I don’t know anything about this town.” She grabbed her pint, intending to move to one of the corner tables without drawing any more unnecessary attention to herself.

Of course, the universe had other plans.

“Douglas! I’d heard you were back in town,” drawled a familiar voice. One Miranda had  _ really _ hoped to never hear again in her life. “Come back to walk among us mortals?”

She swallowed and keep walking. She did  _ not  _ want to deal with this. Annoying, cheating jackass at the bar? Easy to avoid, defuse the situation, get out. The one person (if not his two goons as well) that she never wanted to see again for fear of her life despite the fact that she had killed Alexander Pierce with her mind and seduced Loki with ease? — yeah, she wasn’t prepared to face this ghost yet.

“He’s talking to you,” said a guy in front of her, turning around.

Miranda felt the blood drain from her face. She was trapped between them and the tables were too close and crowded to easily worm her way around. So she turned around and looked Travis Gray right in the eye.

“So, the wayward slut comes back home,” Travis said.

“Don’t you have something better to do than wear your last two brain cells out?” she said.

“Do you think you’re better than us just because you’ve fooled the whole fuckin’ planet into thinking you’re respectable?” he said, leaning on the table next to Miranda, pressing into her space. “Terrence and I both know it’s all a front. You’re the same as you were in high school.”

She felt Terrence coming up close behind her. Panic started to rise in her throat, her mouth going dry. “What do you want from me, asshole?”

“We just wanna see want everyone’s losing their minds over, sweetheart,” Travis said, his free hand reaching out towards her.

She felt Terrence’s breath on her neck and she felt her body tense. Suddenly she wasn’t in control anymore — she couldn’t move. She didn’t even feel like she was in the bar anymore, she was surrounded by gilded furniture and soaring windows and violets and silk and green and gold and long tables lined with Hydra and  _ Am I simply a convive? _

Then Travis and Terrance were scrambling to get out the door as the former sheriff and bartender kicked them out, and Jordan was in front of her, waving his hand to bring her back down to earth.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

Miranda nodded numbly and let him guide her to an empty chair. The former sheriff and bartender hung back a short distance to give her some space.

“Andy, are you gonna be okay?” Jordan asked.

“I think so. I’m just a little shaken,” she said, putting her face in her hands. She absently wondered where her drink had gone, but she didn’t really care. Jordan put his hand on her knee to get her attention, and she took the glass of water gratefully.

She didn’t care about the whispers around her. Her mouth felt bitter and what was supposed to be a fun night out was rapidly becoming a nightmare. But Jordan was there and he had always been the level-headed one in their group when they were kids, so everything would be okay. It was going to be okay.

By the time she finished the water, her nerves were just about back to normal. And she wanted a drink — unfortunately, her limit would scare the rest of the patrons.

Things moved slowly, the ball being gently nudged into motion. Jordan replaced Miranda’s drink. The former sheriff offered to help her file a report if she wanted. The bartender promised they wouldn’t be allowed back. Then Angie — sweet, tiny Angie — appeared by Jordan’s side and asked Miranda to sit in their booth with them and some of their friends.

People sent drinks to the table or came over to talk to Miranda themselves.

“You’ve done more than anyone from this town ever thought was possible.”

“My daughter’s in high school. She says that you’re one of the biggest heroes out there for people and always has a new story to share about how your work has affected people. It’s really encouraged her knack for journalism.”

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re anything less than a gift from God, ya understand? A real angel on Earth.”

“Miss Douglas, you gave me the courage to change my life.”

And the comments kept coming. All positive, all about how she’d touched their lives or made the town proud or how she was destined for great things.

She passed the latest cocktail — a Manhattan — to Angie.

“They all mean it, you know,” Angie said, taking a sip. “The whole town has been following the news about you since there was news about you.”

“Well, a lot of that’s negative.”

Angie shrugged. “The kids though, they know how to sift through all the bullshit online. And I don’t think I go a whole week without one of the kids sharing an article about you in class.”

“You teach?” Miranda asked. Angie had always had a knack for teaching and had that quirkiness that would make any class fun.

“Yeah, history and politics at the high school. I’m trying a current events class this semester and the kids love it. They enjoy having a space where their opinions and ideas are listened to, even if it can get heated sometimes.”

“Angie, that sounds like the dream,” Miranda said. Because, damn, she’d be doing the same thing if her life had gone according to plan. Sure, she’d probably be teaching undergrads, but they weren’t terribly different than high schoolers. Just made more of coffee than drama.

Jordan laughed. “Teaching high schoolers is the dream? Somebody put your head on strange, Andy,” he said. “You’re an ambassador and pseudo-Avenger.”

“Ah, but let’s not forget the price I had to pay to get there.”

“That’s a good point. I rescind my comment,” Jordan said, raising his glass towards her. After he took a sip, he set his glass down and said, very seriously, “No one should have to go through that. Ever. And I’m sorry that you had to, Andy. If there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”

Miranda nodded. She believed him. Believed everyone. They’d all meant what they said. She didn’t have to be psychic to know that they were being genuine.

“Miranda,” one of Angie’s friends said — Hope, she was pretty sure — “you’re a mom, right?”

“Yeah, Ben will be five in March.”

“I hope it’s not too forward for me to ask but, do you have any tips on how to get a baby to sleep? Our six-month-old won’t sleep unless I hold her.”

“Oh, Ben was like that for a bit. Earth was strange to him compared to Asgard and I had to hold him to get him to sleep. Lullabies helped. Oh, and lavender. I got a little aromatherapy thing and put a few drops of lavender and a few mint in it. Didn’t necessarily make him through the  _ night _ , but it helped.”

“That’s brilliant,” Hope said. “See, hun? This is why I ask other moms, not the internet,” she said to her husband. He just smiled and shook his head.

“Her mother got to her as a kid and she hasn’t recovered. Hope still thinks the internet is full of creeps,” he said. The rest of the table laughed.

Miranda glanced at her watch and quickly excused herself. “I promised Ben I’d be home before he went to sleep — it was lovely meeting you all,” she said. She kissed Angie’s cheek and made both her and Jordan promise to call so they could have lunch.

“And meet Ben!” Angie said.

“And meet Ben,” Miranda confirmed. Then she left.

Her mom was just coming downstairs from helping Ben get ready for bed when she walked in the door.

“Did you have fun, sweetheart?” her dad asked, looking up from his crossword at the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” Miranda said, taking off her jacket and hanging it up. “I ran into Jordan and Angie, and a couple of other familiar faces.” She peeked over his shoulder as she passed by. “Seven down is ‘tiramisu.’”

“Thanks, Andy,” he called after her.

“No problem!” she called back as she went up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Ben beat her to the door and opened it while she was still halfway down the hall.

His face lit up and she scooped him up when he reached her. He was talking a mile a minute about what he’d done while she was gone: his writing was getting better, he read (with one of his grandparents’ help most likely) about amphibians and reptiles, and then they watched a documentary about airplanes. He wanted to build an engine like his Uncle Tony to make planes fly better, faster.

“Goodnight, Mamma,” Ben said with a yawn before rolling over to sleep. He’d been falling asleep while he’d been telling her about his ideas for airplanes (some of which were so similar to Tony’s that Miranda was sure he’d seen the blueprints) and finally succumbed, hugging his replica Bucky Bear tightly.

“Goodnight, baby,” Miranda said, just as softly and with a gentle kiss.

*****

The snow crunched under her boots as she made her way through the rows, wreath clenched tightly in her hand. Having taken this path so many times before, she barely had to pay attention to where she was going as she walked to Raoul’s grave, even after all these years. Miranda stopped a few feet away, surprised to see that she wasn’t the only one visiting him today.

“Mrs. Crevecoeur,” she said, “I didn’t think I’d bump into here.”

“Andy!” Mrs. Crevecoeur said. “I’d heard you were back in town. I was going to call later to ask why you hadn’t come by yet.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could,” Miranda said, coming forward the last few feet so that they were next to each other.

“You’re always welcome, dear, you know that.”

Miranda nodded, biting her lip. “I just, um,” she said, lifting the wreath.

“Of course, go ahead.” She stepped aside.

Miranda gently placed the wreath against the tombstone, just slightly off to the side. She placed her hand on it, partly to help her back to her feet, and partly as a comforting gesture. Could he feel it? she wondered. He said he could hear her, but that was different.

“He can hear you,” she said. “I got to — I saw him. In the afterlife. He’s happy,” she continued, turning to look at Mrs. Crevecoeur. “He’s friends with the Howlies and Peggy Carter.” She bit her lip, every part of her shaking.

“Oh, Andy,” she said softly, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad he’s happy. I’ve been praying for that much.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, holding the woman who had practically been her second mother since kindergarten.

Mrs. Crevecoeur rubbed her back. “It wasn’t your fault, none it was. Listen to me,” she said, taking Miranda’s face between her hands. “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you could to help, but at the end of the day, you’re a victim, too. You didn’t cause it, you tried to prevent it. Alright?”

Miranda nodded, wiping her cheeks with her gloved hands.

“I’m glad to hear my son is happy, no matter how you found out. But I want you to be happy too, dear. You deserve that much.” She pulled Miranda into another hug. “Now, I expect you to come by in a few days for a chat. And bring that kid of yours, I want to meet the grandbaby that your mother keeps chattering about.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Miranda said with a watery laugh.

Miranda stood there for a few minutes after Mrs. Crevecoeur left, her hands shoved deep in her pockets as she stared at her best friend’s grave. The snow fell gently around her, sticking to her scarf and coat for a few moments before melting.

“Someday,” she said, “someday.” Then, with a glance toward the sky, she retraced her steps and left the cemetery.

*****

Miranda laughed, nearly choking on her lo mein noodles. Angie giggled and glanced lovingly at Jordan, who was telling a story about antics that he and some others had gotten up to back during the Conquering. It was weird, listening to war stories that involved aliens, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing in any of their lives now. It was the new normal.

“And that was how Bentham got discharged,” Jordan said. “She still says that it was worth it.”

“It certainly makes a good story,” Miranda said. “I missed you guys,” she added. Listening to Jordan’s stories made her think about the adventures they’d had when they were younger and knowing that he and Angie and so many other people had banded together to protect what they cared about while she was trapped and scheming at nothing made guilt hit her like a freight train for a moment. She tried to shake it off, but the pain lingered, even after she reminded herself of what Mrs. Crevecoeur had said to her, how she hadn’t specified that it was about Raoul.

She prodded Ben to keep eating when she noticed he was looking at her with those too-wise-for-his-age eyes that meant he knew she wasn’t okay. She was fine, there was no reason to cut this lunch short, so he needed to  _ stop looking at her like he knew she was starting to spiral how does he even know that _ .

“We missed you, too,” Angie said, reaching out to hold Miranda’s hand. They shared a soft smile.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Miranda asked. “I mean, I saw it coming in, like, middle school but…”

“Four years?” Jordan said, looking to Angie for confirmation; she nodded.

“Thereabouts. I haven’t been keeping track that much, really.”

“Angie, I’m wounded,” Jordan said, placing a hand on his chest.

“You’re an ass,” she laughed, playfully shoving him.

“God, you two are disgustingly cute,” Miranda said. “So, what else have I missed? What’s Eva up to?”

“Oh my god, that’s right — you don’t know,” Angie said, her eyes widening as she realized that Miranda didn’t know something that was apparently very important. “Eva is… oh, gosh, how do I phrase this without sounding like a bigot? He’s Mark now? I don’t really know how to phrase it,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, OH, gosh, no, I-I get it. Wow. Okay. I’m glad he found himself. What does he do now?”

“Well, he taught physics at the local high school for about a year, then he got in some weird accident. When he recovered, he applied to teach at some specialty school out east. He’s there now — has been for almost two or three years already. I forget what it’s called.” Angie looked to Jordan for help. “It’s a school for ‘gifted youngsters.’”

“Xavier’s?” Miranda blurted. “He works at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters?”

“Yes! That’s it.”

“His name is Mark Taylor-Quincy?”

“He dropped the Taylor in college, I think.”

“Professor Mark Quincy, physics,” Miranda said. “I’m gonna kill him. I can’t believe he didn’t say — why is he  _ still _ like that? We’re adults, for crying out loud.”

“Woah, woah, woah, back up. What?” said Jordan, leaning forward.

“I’ve visited Xavier’s multiple times and have made the acquaintance of Professor Quincy, and he never mentioned that we knew each other.” Miranda shook her head. “Why wouldn’t he say something? What the hell, Mark…”

“Are you serious?” Jordan asked.

“Completely.”

“I mean, he did always second-guess if you wanted him around. Especially in high school.”

“What? Mark was always part of our group — why — I’m missing something. You’re looking at each other weird and I’m totally missing something, aren’t I?”

“You were always a rebel and then after sophomore year you just kinda… got this ‘I don’t give a bleep’ vibe. You were that cool, aloof badass in the classic high school movies,” Angie said. “Oh, don’t gimme that look, Jordan, you know it was like that.”

Jordan shook his head. “You’re not wrong, but it’s a weird comparison.”

“And Mark thought I would just drop him?”

“It was more like he didn’t think he could still hang out or something. We were kids and most of those conversations were after midnight,” Angie said, waving it off. “But, if he was like that just case you suddenly became a ‘cool’ kid, why wouldn’t he know when you’re famous and crap?”

“I understand your logic, but I’m still paying him a visit and giving him an earful,” Miranda said.

Angie laughed. “That’s our girl!”

“Momma,” Ben said, drawing everyone’s attention to him, “can we go sledding now?”

“Soon as you finish eating, we’ll get outta here, okay?” Miranda said.

“Okay,” Ben said. He was still looking at her like he knew something she hadn’t said.

It was getting weird.

“Anyway, I guess it’s my turn to share some stories?” Miranda said before plunging into one that leaned on the side of embarrassing for Ben and hilarious for the adults. At least it got Ben to focus on his food inside of his mom.

*****

The snow crunched rapidly in front of their sled. Miranda expertly tugged the string looped through the front of the plastic toboggan to avoid going too far to the right or left and ramming into an obstacle or sledders that were making the trek back up the hill. Ben squealed happily as they shot down the snowy hillside.

“Again, again!” he cried as they slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He tumbled out of the sled and tried turning it before Miranda even had a chance to dump herself out.

“Slow down, tiger,” she said, laughing. Once she was out of the sled, she took hold of the string and they pulled the sled back up the hill to ride down again.

Which is what they did all afternoon. Ben was sluggish as they walked back to Miranda’s old truck, which her dad had kept in good shape since the flatbed came in handy a lot. The mustardy-lemon yellow was faded and peeling in spots, rusty in others, but Miranda loved it all the same. It was her first car, after all.

She threw the toboggan into the back, which made a series of bangs and clangs as it slid around. Ben grunted as he tried to get the door open.

“Ben, let me see your hands,” Miranda demanded, very worried by what she saw. She took his hands in hers and was shocked that they didn’t feel icy.

His mittens were flapping loosely at the end of his sleeves, connected together by a string threaded through the inside of his coat. Miranda wasn’t sure how long they’d been off his hands, but it was long enough for his little hands to turn a pale shade of blue. The color was unfamiliar, but the tiny, paler swirling designs on his skin weren’t.

Miranda frowned, a deep crease forming on her brow. “When did you take your mittens off?”

Ben shrugged. “My hands were too hot and the snow doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay. Come on, let’s go home,” she said, helping him up into the truck and buckle his seatbelt. After she closed the door, she looked around, praying that nobody had seen his hands.

The town may be accepting her back with open arms, but when so many had served in the militia or in some other capacity to push back the Chautari, she wasn’t sure they wouldn’t react harshly with a blatant reminder that Ben wasn’t entirely human and more so, that Loki was his father.

*****

They went sledding a few more times between then and Christmas. Ben was especially excited if they went after or during a fresh snowfall, and Miranda kept a closer eye on his mittens, making sure that they stayed on his hands.

They went to the Christmas pageant, and it wasn’t as bad as Miranda had thought it would be. Not only were the kids this year actually half-decent singers and actors, but the church ladies didn’t bombard her as much as she has expected. Granted, quite a few were doting on Ben, who used the opportunity to talk about the robot that he was building back home, but she wasn’t asked nearly as many questions as she had steeled herself for. It was nice. Really nice.

It snowed again, and this time it was perfect snow to build a snowman. The four of them bundled up and played in the snow for hours. They built a snowman, then a snow fort. Then Miranda showed Ben how to make and throw a snowball, and launched it at her dad before ducking behind their snowy fortifications. Ben laughed and threw a snowball of his own. It didn’t go very far, but it didn’t matter.

Miranda took it all in: everyone’s breath coming in puffs in front of their faces, the sunlight turning the snow into a blinding white glitter covering everything up and down the street, Ben’s ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes, the joy bubbling in her own chest.

It was everything she had been missing for the last five years, but now she found herself missing the life that she’d built in that time, though only in the quiet hours that she had to herself when the streetlights were the only light available and time moved differently. That was when she missed her new family, her found family. That rag-tag group that somehow grew into something more tight-knit than a team.

Part of her wanted this vacation to go faster. Part of her wanted it to last forever.

So when Christmas morning rolled in, softer than the snow they’d gotten overnight, she wasn’t sure if she was happy or regretting that there was only a week left in this little bubble of home and happiness.

Miranda woke up early to make sure she had the edge on Ben and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom was already sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee and Miranda soon joined her with her own cup.

Her dad came in after getting more wood from outside a while later and they chatted quietly while waiting for the sound of little feet on the stairs.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving in a week,” Miranda said after a glance (and then double take) at the calendar. She rested her forehead in her palms. “God, time flies.”

“It really does,” her mom said. “Are you ready?”

Miranda sighed. “I think so. I mean, I miss everyone and I know Ben does too, but I’m not excited to jump back into politics,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “But, I’ll call everyone later when Ben’s up and we’ll just talk for an hour and then…” she shrugged.

Her mother’s eyes were soft, but Miranda was spared from further concerned-parent-questioning by the sound of Ben coming hurriedly downstairs. He burst into the kitchen and made a beeline for his mom, latching onto her leg.

“Morning, kiddo,” she said, rubbing his head.

“Momma, can we call Dad and Papa?” he asked.

“In a bit. Don’t you want to see what Santa brought first?”

“No,” Ben said, burying his face in her PJs for a moment before looking back up at her. “Now.”

“I already told them that I’d call in an hour — that’s when they said they’d have time.”

“Noooooowwwww,” Ben whined, bouncing up and down impatiently. “I want them to come to Christmas.”

“Ben, sweetie, they’re in New York. I can ask Dad if they have time now to talk, but they probably don’t.”

He became more and more insistent, verging on a temper tantrum. Miranda was being as patient as she could, but she was starting to lose her calm.

“Stop it,” she said harshly, leaning down to grab his arm.

“I think we’ll have to be a bit early,” her mom said.

“Benjamin James, stop it right now,” Miranda said, crouching down to eye level with her son.

“Andy,” her dad said.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I don’t know what got into him,” Miranda said.

“No, Andy, that’s not — just read my mind,” he said.

“I can’t — Benjamin,  _ stop it _ .”

“Read my mind,” her dad said again and this time Miranda understood.

“Oh,” she said when the pieces fell together. Still trying to control Ben, she let down her walls and dismantled the ones surrounding her father’s mind with ease, even if she hadn’t had to delve deep into someone else’s mind in quite awhile. Her mutation, skill, gift — whatever you wanted to call it — was an advantage, an edge, and one that she didn’t want to use liberally.

She’d done that before, when she spent every moment of her life feeling afraid and close-guarded, and she had no intention of doing that again.

Her father had pushed what he wanted her to know to the front of his mind so she couldn’t miss it. Snapping back to herself, she took a moment to process what he had shared.

“Ben, go put on your shoes.”

He stopped crying and stared at her.

“Santa left a surprise for you in garage, and if you don’t want me to ask Santa to take it back, you have to go put on your shoes and coat.”

When he nodded, she let his arm go and watched him dart off to get his shoes and coat, tantrum temporarily forgotten. Miranda got to her feet and hugged her dad, then her mom.

“I can’t believe you guys did this,” she said, wiping a tear away before it could run down her face.

“Come on, get your coat and shoes, too. We all should go outside for this,” her mom said, smiling.

A few moments later, Ben was impatiently dancing around the adults as they pulled on their shoes and coats, tugging them towards the door.

Miranda scooped him up before they went outside to keep him from running ahead and bursting into the garage before her mom can get it on camera. So naturally, her mom scurried ahead (nearly slipping on the ice) and went into the garage to make sure she can get it all recorded for memories.

“Are you ready?” her dad asked, his hand on the doorknob.

Miranda set Ben down on his feet and held his hand. “Yeah.”

“Yup, yup, yup!” Ben said, jumping up and down with each word.

“Merry Christmas,” her dad said, opening the door for them.

Ben hurried inside, pulling his mom along with him. “It’s dark!”

“Oh, sorry,” Miranda’s mom said from somewhere else in the garage, followed by a click as she pulled the string on the light, illuminating the space and its guests.

A lot happened at once. As soon as the light came on, Ben squealed; Miranda started to laugh and cry, hand over her mouth; Steve knelt down to meet Ben as he ran over; and Bucky smiled. It was perfect.

Ben hugged Steve, who lifted him up off his feet and squeezed him until Ben laughed and said it was too tight. As soon as he was back on his feet, he went over to Bucky, who picked him up with less hesitation than Miranda expected and didn’t even seem to care when Ben wrapped his arms around his neck, showing no intention of letting go soon.

Miranda couldn’t find words so she just pulled Steve closer to her and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, each leaning into the other and breathing deeply, taking in the scent of each other which have become synonymous with comfort and safety. Steve was cedar and honey; Miranda, citrus and vanilla.

She stepped over and gave Bucky a one-armed hug as tight as she could, but kept her free hand in Steve’s.

“It’s so good to see you both,” she said, her face beginning to hurt from smiling.

“Steve was starting to worry you’d never come back,” Bucky teased.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m the only one that missed them.”

“Alright, you four, let’s get a picture and then head inside,” April said. “It’s cold out here.”

“It’s not that bad, Mom,” Miranda said, turning so she’d face the camera. Steve stood to her left and Bucky to her right with Ben on his right hip.

“I’m freezing,” April said, “now say ‘cheese!’”

Miranda laughed, the four of them saying ‘cheese,’ arms wrapped around each other. It was the best Christmas present she’d ever had.

*****

Ben, Bucky, and Steve were sitting on the floor near the fireplace after the stockings had been emptied of their treasures. Miranda’s old, fading stocking from childhood was half-forgotten on one of the armchairs since she was helping her parents premake dishes for dinner, but Steve kept glancing at it and smiling. Like her parents’ stockings, they were knit with wintery patterns, their names embroidered across the top. Ben’s was different: instead of winter patterns, it was the marked symbols of the Avengers. But Miranda’s was Steve’s favorite, probably because it was hers. The white snowflakes and chevrons stood out against the navy background beautifully, making it a work of art.

“It’s like how Christmas used to be, isn’t it?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yeah, a little,” Steve said. He looked around at the decorations again.

What were “classic” traditions were the “fashionable” ones when they were children, if they were “tradition” yet. But the silver and gold garlands wrapped around the tree were familiar, as was the holly mantlepiece. Some of the ornaments on the tree were losing their color, but that just proved that they were originals, probably handed down from Miranda’s grandparents or great-grandparents. Other ornaments were handmade and childish, undoubtedly art projects from grade school that Miranda or her brother had made when they weren’t much bigger than Ben.

“Not everything, but it feels the same,” Steve said, looking back at Bucky. The fire cast a warm glow on his face that was met on the other side by the tree lights. Steve lied to himself that it was the contrast in the light that caught his attention, not how it highlighted the shape of Bucky’s face and lit up his eyes.

“That’s because it’s family,” Ben said, not looking up from the Lego instructions. He was building a little car that could propel itself forward after being pulled back. “That’s what Momma said. It feels better ‘cause it’s family.”

“Your mom is pretty smart, kid,” Bucky said.

“I know.”

They heard the door open and the stomping-off of boots. “Merry Christmas!” called one of the newcomers.

“Uncle Levi!” Ben cried, scrambling to his feet and hurrying to the front hall.

“Hey, Ben! Merry Christmas,” said the same person. Steve guessed it was Levi.

“Andy’s brother?” Bucky mouthed.

Steve nodded. “And his fiance, I think.”

They got to their feet headed to the hall. Miranda was already there and hugging Levi. Her hands were at a weird angle to keep her hands clean, and the same thing happened when she hugged the other guest. Then she made introductions. Quinn looked more than a little starstruck, but Levi was perfectly comfortable.

Miranda took a read of the situation, noting both Quinn and Bucky’s nerves. “Quinn, would you mind helping Mom and I in the kitchen? We need an extra pair of hands since Dad’s working on the ham.”

“Sure thing,” they said, hanging up their coat. They smiled nervously at Steve and Bucky before following Miranda into the kitchen.

“Don’t take it personally, Quinn was just as nervous to meet Andy. Maybe more since she’s my sister,” Levi said, a natural at breaking tension.

“Uncle Levi, come look, come look!” Ben said, tugging on his hand towards the living room.

“Okay, little inventor, whatcha got this time?” Levi said, allowing himself to be dragged along.

Ben paused. “Papa, you come, too,” he said, grabbing Bucky’s hand.

“Do I get to see?” Steve asked playfully.

“Not yet,” Ben said very matter-of-factly. Then he pulled the chosen two through the doorway, leaving Steve alone, laughing and curious.

He peeked around the doorframe only to be caught by Ben.

“No!” Ben scolded, hiding whatever it was with his body. “No peeking!”

“Okay, okay, no peeking,” Steve said, surrendering to the stubbornness of a four-year-old. He headed into the kitchen to ask Miranda if she knew what Ben was up to.

“Pfft, no,” Miranda said after giving him a kiss over her shoulder as she kept cleaning potatoes. “I’ve been in here pretty much since we came inside, I have no clue what’s going through that child’s head. And don’t look at me like that, you know damn well I don’t read minds 24/7,” she added, grinning as she playfully pointed the peeler at him. “Now get the cocktail weenies out of the oven. The timer’s about to go off.”

And that was how Steve got tricked into helping in the kitchen. Well, not tricked, really, since he didn’t mind. It meant he got to spend time with Miranda in her element, and he had a chance to get to know her parents and Quinn better. He felt like part of the family.

Steve noticed Ben peering around the doorframe, clearly not wanting to be seen. He pretended he hadn’t seen him, and one better, distracted Miranda so she didn’t either. Then Ben was gone.

“I wonder what he’s up to,” he wondered aloud.

“Probably best not to know,” Miranda said, eyes glinting. “Plausible deniability and all.”

“Only works when the kid isn’t in school, dear,” her mom said, patting Miranda’s shoulder.

“There’s a story there,” Steve said after Miranda laughed.

“Oh, there’s always a story,” Miranda said. “Don’t you remember our very first not-date?”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “Does that mean you’re gonna share?”

“Nope. And no, Mom, that does not mean you get to.”

“She never lets me embarrass her,” April said, acting like it was something dreadful. “It’s like she thinks I’m gonna scare her date away.”

“Mom,” Miranda said, half-warning and half-embarrassed.

“We’re embarrassing Andy?” Ervin asked, only catching part of the conversation when he came back from checking on the fire in the living room.

Miranda said “No” at the same time everyone else said “Yes.”

Miranda stared at Quinn, looking utterly betrayed.

“What?” Quinn said, laughing. “I want to hear these stories too.”

“Why do I even bother,” Miranda mumbled.

Steve chuckled and kissed her forehead. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him. “What’s left to do?” he asked.

“Um, the glorified rice, I think. And the sweet potatoes?” Miranda said, glancing around the kitchen and at her mom.

“Yup,” April said. “Quinn and I can handle it. No, shoo, both of you. You haven’t seen each other in over a month, spend time together. Shoo, shoo!”

Pushed out of the kitchen, Miranda shook her head once they were in the hallway. She wiped her hands on her apron and untied it. “Welcome to the craziness that is a Douglas holiday.”

“I kinda assumed it would be something like this. After all, you woke me up with cupcakes once,” Steve said, grinning as he looped his arms around her waist.

“You said you didn’t mind!” Miranda said, hitting him with her apron halfheartedly before looping her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t,” he said, “because I had a crush on you.”

“You had a crush? That’s embarrassing,” Miranda teased.

“Mhm. ‘Cause you didn’t.”

“Nope,” Miranda said, grinning. “I absolutely despise you with all my heart.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. You’ll break Nat’s heart,” Steve said. They both broke into a fit of giggling that only broke off when Miranda kissed Steve.

“Let’s go see what my son is up to, hm? I’m really curious since he won’t let you know.”

“Likewise. Or, we could take advantage of our time and catch up.”

“You make a good point,” Miranda said, kissing him again.

“Ewww, grooossss,” Levi said, coming out of the living room. Then he laughed when Miranda flipped him off as she kept kissing Steve. “If you two are done, I’ve been tasked with ushering you to the living room.”

“Ushering?” Miranda said.

Levi shrugged. “I’m not in charge here — this is all Ben’s idea.”

“And what is he up to, exactly?” Steve asked.

“My lips are sealed,” Levi said, miming locking his lips and throwing away the key.

The couple looked at each other and shrugged, and followed Levi into the living room. They were directed to the couch, where they sat side-by-side.

“I made this,” Ben said, presenting them with a crayon drawing of a Jaeger, like the ones in  _ Pacific Rim _ . Miranda was about to say that it was lovely when Ben turned around and went to Bucky, who was holding something behind his back.

He nudged Bucky’s knee, and the pair came forward to the couch, Bucky kneeling on one knee and revealing a Lego Jaeger that looked like the one Ben had drawn. Bucky rested it on his knee as Ben pointed out and explained his design choices, how he made the perfect Jaeger for the two of them. He even opened the chest to reveal two Lego figures sitting inside. One was a Lego Captain America, and the other was a Captain America body… with Black Widow’s head and hair?

“This one is you,” Ben said, handing the little Cap to its human counterpart, “and this one is you.” He handed the other figurine to Miranda. “I didn’t have any to be you, but Papa had a good idea so I went with that.”

“I thought it was a great idea,” Bucky said.

Ben gently rested his hand on Bucky’s shoulder before turning back to the couch, asking, “Do you like it?”

Miranda bit back a laugh at Ben’s antics. “I love it, baby,” she said sincerely, leaning forward to look closer at the Lego Jaeger. “I’d use this design to fight monsters.”

“You did a great job, Ben,” Steve said, ruffling his hair.

Ben ducked out of Steve’s reach and angrily flattened his hair, making a face. Miranda bit back a laugh; she knew from Bucky that Steve used to do the same thing when they were kids.

They admired Ben’s design for a few more minutes before they were cut off by Ben pulling Miranda to her feet so that they could dance to “Jingle Bell Rock” when it came on the radio via the area’s Christmas station, which turned into “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” before Miranda snapped the radio off as “Christmas Shoes” started.

“It’d kill the mood,” she said before heading back into the kitchen to check on things.

Steve and Bucky looked to Levi for answers, but he just shrugged. “It always makes her cry.”

Levi turned the radio back on after a few minutes, into the middle of Elvis’ “Blue Christmas,” but by then, everyone was working on setting the table and moving the feast from the kitchen to the dining room. As everyone settled into their seats, the radio was a soft murmur from the living room, barely loud enough to count as background noise without enhanced hearing.

But underneath the happy chatter and clinking silverware, the laughter and stories, Bing Crosby sang over the radio:

_ “I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…” _

*****

“I had hoped for a white Christmas,” Miranda said in lieu of a greeting as she sat down next to Bucky. “But at least the sky is clear,” she added, following his gaze upward. She sighed, her breath swirling in the air like smoke from a dragon’s nose.

The moonlight lit up the snowy scene, giving the night that quietness that only winter can achieve. Everything that had snow on it was aglow, and there was enough light that they could see each other’s faces, even if there hadn’t been golden light spilling out of the window from the kitchen.

Bucky wrung his hands, not saying anything.

Miranda suppressed a shiver.

“You should go inside if you’re cold,” he said, looking at Miranda. Her eyes were still looking towards heaven.

“Did I ever tell you about the time that I was trapped in a false reality?” she said, still looking up. “It was in Belgium. Hydra had got its hands on me, and Ben, and they plugged me into a fake world where I got to go to Norway like I’d planned. But I woke up. Three times, if Pierce’s word is worth anything.”

“I know. I was there,” Bucky said, not sure where this was going.

“I only remember waking up twice. The first was because of Ben, naturally. I remembered I was a mother. But the second time, the second time was because of you,” she said, locking her gaze with his. “I saw you, and you told me it wasn’t real. Then I woke up and you were there.”

“I didn’t know you,” Bucky said. “I thought you were familiar but…”

“I tried to reach out to you, enter your mind. But they put me under before I got very far. I got to Azzano, anyway, and what came after. Then Steve came to my rescue,” she said, laughing half-heartedly. “But what matters is, I wanted to kill Pierce, then and there. Not because of what happened to me or Ben, but for you. Because I loved you. I still do,” she added quietly. She stared at her hands.

“Andy…” Bucky started. Her confession — confessions, really — were creating a whirlwind of emotions in his chest. She loved him. She loved him so much that she killed Pierce without a second thought. It was a thrilling and terrifying revelation all at once.

“I want you to be a part of my family, Bucky. As crazy as it is,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “I want you to know that you’re part of it. To me.” She looked at him again, very intensely. “Please let yourself have this. Please.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Bucky promised, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. He remembered how hard it had been in Bucharest to say ‘no,’ to stay there away from her, from Steve. He’d come this far now. Perhaps he could still turn back, but if he was going to be as honest with himself was Andy was being with him, he didn’t want to go anywhere that meant leaving them behind.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Andy leaned her head against his shoulder as she told him stories about the stars, and about how Ben loved looking heavenward at night as much as she did. Bucky listened with interest since living in the city (even though New York was so much larger than it used to be) drowned out many of the smaller stars that shone brilliantly in the sky.

*****

It was snowing again as they drove out to where Nat had landed the Quinjet. Miranda sat in the back of her parents’ car, sandwiched between Steve and Bucky, Ben on her lap. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least the drive wasn’t going to be very long.

Ben was telling Bucky fun facts about spiders when Steve decided to start a conversation.

“Are you ready to go back?” Steve asked.

“I’m ready to share a bed with my boyfriend again,” Miranda said, grinning. “The rest of it, not so much.”

“You’ll be wonderful.” He kissed her forehead. “Like always.”

“Sap,” she said, still smiling. She leaned into him more anyway. “It’s still gonna be a lot. My little vacation didn’t mean I wasn’t sending or responding to a bazillion emails. I forgot how much my thrice daily news briefings stressed me out. Plus I had to rearrange a few days just to make a call to someone on the other side of the planet. And that was while  _ on vacation _ ,” she groused.

“You have a whole team to help you, and another to support you.”

“You always know what to say.”

“It’s one of his talents,” Bucky said, then, “No, I was listening. The spiders burrow underground, and then,” he prompted Ben, who squinted at him before starting to talk about spiders again.

Miranda and Steve chuckled before falling into silence again until they reached the Quinjet.

*****

Once they were high enough that Nat could put the controls on autopilot, she came back and sat next to Miranda across from Steve and Bucky. Ben was a few seats over playing with Scarlet Witch and Black Widow action figures.

“So, what’s the plan when we get back?” Nat asked, the question directed towards Miranda.

“We deal with the shitstorm that DC and the press throw at us, and on the side we prep for Thanos.”

“From what you’ve shared, it sounds like he’s extremely powerful,” Steve said.

“And yet we’ll make him run back to wherever he came from,” Miranda said confidently. “I expect nothing less from Earth’s mightiest heroes.”


End file.
